


Wolf Hunt

by JJClark



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 1980s-2000s, A mix of book and show events, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Slow Burn, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:21:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 51,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JJClark/pseuds/JJClark
Summary: Ned Stark survived the massacre of his family in King's Landing. On the run with his daughter, he travels throughout Westeros seeking allies. Danger is never far behind, and eventually, he'll have to leave Arya behind to keep her hidden from their enemies.Arry Snow knows no life but that of a nomad. She suspects her father of lying for years, but what is the real reason for never putting down roots? Most importantly, why can't she remember anything about her childhood? Surrounded by more questions than answers, Arry is about to learn the hard way how desperate her father is to save her.Gendry Baratheon is a teenage runaway. He has the chance to make something of himself and snatches up an opportunity with a traveling troupe. Unfortunately, he gets more than he bargained for in the form of a quirky pest and a couple of oddball lost boys.But the past is never far behind, and the truth might just get them all killed.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 133
Kudos: 90





	1. King's Landing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark and his daughter, Arya, survive the massacre of King's Landing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! 
> 
> Thank you for choosing to read Wolf Hunt! First of all, I would like to apologize to those of you who started this journey with me almost a year ago. I told myself that I wouldn't be one of those authors who disappeared or left without completing my story. Some of you are aware that I stepped away for personal reasons a few weeks ago. I am eternally grateful to those who reached out to me. Again, I apologize for the confusion and concern. 
> 
> With that said, I'd also like to thank those of you who encouraged me to return and re-publish my stories. I chose to start with Wolf Hunt because it was my official introduction to the Gendrya community. What better way to begin again than to go back to the very beginning? 
> 
> Unfortunately, I have come to the decision not to rejoin Tumblr. I apologize for those of you who would connect with me on that platform. Sneak Peeks and clues about future chapters will be limited to my IG account **(jjclarku)** or replies on Ao3. I do still have the playlist on Spotify here: **https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5YmnJwlEdNOVKq6WCDh0ce**
> 
> If you are a new reader, thank you so much for giving Wolf Hunt a shot! For those of you returning with me, you will notice that I have not uploaded everything. While away, I did some heavy editing and expanding on PART ONE. You will now have additional information and extra scenes. Hopefully, they are worth it in the end. 
> 
> As always, comments and kudos are welcomed and thoroughly enjoyed! Please, give me your thoughts and theories as we move along with the story. Thank you once more for bearing with me!

**King's Landing - Summer 1986**

“You will not get aw-” Ned Stark stumbled back as a fist collided with the side of his temple. He hit the corner of the table on his way down. Stars exploded, and his vision dimmed for an unknown amount of time. Jolted by the screams of his youngest daughter, the old wolf pulled himself up from the floor. Arya kicked and shouted in Roose’s arms when he tried to carry her out of the bedroom. Ned staggered across the room, then launched himself at the traitor’s knees from behind.

Despite the disjointed feeling of his head from his body, he continued to yank at Roose’s legs. Finally, the other man lost his grip on the girl and dropped her. Both toppled to the floor in a messy tangle of limbs until Bolton got the upper hand and straddled Ned. Arya’s hysterical sobs kept the wolf conscious as the traitor wrapped his hands around Ned’s neck. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and he attempted to gain a window of opportunity for freedom. The edges of his vision blurred once more, though he remained awake long enough to see Arya attack.

With another savage howl, his daughter attached herself to their enemy. Roose released one hand from Ned’s airway to deal with the wolf child’s assault. Arya’s teeth sunk into his flesh, leaving Bolton no choice but to take hold of the girl’s stringy hair. He ripped her off of him, tossing her to the side. Ned’s heart sank at the deafening silence that followed her collapse. Her tiny form crumbled against the corner of the bedpost. For a long dreadful moment, he believed her dead. Something dark and primal clawed its way to the surface.

A snarl vibrated deep in his throat, and he lashed out. Adrenaline pumped through his system, recharging the last of his reserves. Much like the feral beast on the Stark banners, Ned attacked. He shifted the man off of him and shoved him against the floor. In the wake of tonight’s betrayal, the shy and quiet northerner disappeared entirely. He bashed Roose brutally into the ground, unaware of the raw noise coming out of his own mouth. Below, his prey looked upon him with fear as he twisted and scraped from under the wolf. In response to the violent act, it reduced Roose to a gargled mess with the blood pooling at the back of his throat.

He shoved Bolton’s head into the floor once, twice, and a third time for good measure. Only when his enemy’s body stilled did he pause. Intending to check the man’s pulse, Ned reached down to touch Roose’s deathly white complexion. Yet, the painful whimpers from behind stopped him. He turned at the waist to see that Arya was, in fact, alive. He released a cry of relief and scrambled to tend to his daughter.

From a distance, he heard the sounds of people heading in their direction. He grunted as he lifted the girl into his arms, protectively pressing her to his chest. Time had run out. They had to go before someone else discovered the scene. His heart tugged at the nursery door connected to the bedroom, then let that hope die. No, the sudden silence from his youngest boys earlier made their fate known. The footsteps echoed down the hall, and Ned knew that this was his last chance for survival.

He ran.   


* * *

_The Starks of Winterfell found dead in King's Landing._

  
_Possible connections to criminal organizations responsible for the family's massacre._

  
_Ned Stark accused of treason and other crimes. Not among the dead._

One article after another said more or less the same thing. In the weeks after their escape, the media blew up with false reports about Ned Stark and his family. ‘New information’ that would pop up during the investigation continuously dragged his name and reputation through the mud. People needed justification for the extinction of a noble house, and the news outlets spoon-fed them anything they would believe. It was salt to an open wound. Even if true justice prevailed, what difference would it make? The dead were still dead, and no one could take back what they lost. 

Gods, he thought with defeat. How had it come to this? What had he done in the past to endure such tragedy and suffering? 

He allowed one side of the newspaper to fall as he cupped his face. The latest article had an old photo attached to it, and it was the first time he set eyes on the deceased. Even in black and white, Ned could picture the vivid reds and blues of his family’s features. Unsurprisingly, he conjured up the faint scent of Catelyn’s perfume when he pressed his lips to her neck. The easy laughter from Robb when the younger ones wildly misbehaved. Sansa’s beautiful sewn dresses or the hum of her songs. Bran and Rickon’s dirtied hair and clothes after rolling around outside. They were as real as the paper in his hands. In his grief, he imagined them likely sleeping in their beds back in Winterfell. Safe and untouched by the horrors of this realistic nightmare. He would wake in the morning, tucked securely to his wife’s side. The children would be playing downstairs with enough ruckus to rouse their ancestors. 

Ned clutched the newspaper, collecting his anguish in puddles on the pages below. The stream of tears branched off between the wrinkles of the paper, distorting the images of his family into something grotesque. Their screams and pleas for mercy crowded the forefront of his mind, forcing him to break the silence with harsh sobs. The older wolf brought the page closer to his face, masking his shame. He begged the Old Gods to hear his cry. He promised no price was too small for their return. 

A whispered voice carried on a breeze told him they were gone. It was time to admit the truth and move on. He clung to their memory as he did the newspaper, safeguarding pieces of his family so he did not feel alone. His heart broke all over again as he mentally laid them to rest with a shaky breath. Just then, as if gaining the ability to read her father’s thoughts, Arya stirred in her sleep. She rolled over with a crinkle between her brows. Ned muffled his cry as her hand stretched out in search of him. He swallowed any sound that might disturb her slumber. 

The low growl she emitted in displeasure would have been amusing had he not feared for her wellbeing. One of the few blessings they accumulated out of this nightmare was the loss of her memory. He wasn’t positive if it was the trauma or the head injury that caused her amnesia. They hadn’t the opportunity to stop for long for anyone to diagnose her. He was grateful, as awful as it sounded. No ten-year-old should have to experience that much in one lifetime. 

He pushed some loose strands of hair out of her face, whispering words of comfort to her. She seemed to settle after that. No, he wasn’t fully alone. His little wolf girl had survived, too. The temptation to slip in beside Arya on their shared cot nagged at him. He wanted to curl his body around her and shield her from the rest of the world. The instinct to protect what he loved filled in shards of his heart. He knew then as he did the day each child was born, that he would do whatever it took to keep her safe. She may one day come to hate him for it, but she would be alive. Besides, Yoren would arrive at any moment. They may have escaped the imminent threat in King’s Landing, but that didn’t mean danger wouldn’t follow. Ned needed trusted allies, a plan, and time. 

Winter was coming for their enemies. 

_And the wolves will come again..._


	2. The Night We Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry runs away after a fight with his uncle Stannis. Arry contemplates her life with the carnival after three years on the road.

**Storm's End - Summer 1989**

The picturesque countryside, lush and green, was a view that Gendry had soaked up for the last ten years. Quaint and beautiful, Storm's End sat on top of the coastal cliffs that stood between them and the ocean. The Baratheon Estate, the ancestral origins of a once-noble and proud House, towered above the city below. He sat on the third-floor window now and gazed out at the scenery he once thought of as home. Six months ago, everything was near perfect in his life. After the death of his mother, Robert had no choice but to send his son away from the capitol. Lonely and temperamental, Gendry needed the attention and affection of someone who could give that to him. Uncle Renly and his husband, Loras, had done just that. They gave him the strength to move forward in his grief, then again provided support when his father died. 

And then Renly died, too. 

Gendry began to pace, feeling as he often did, like a caged animal. What was once home became a prison for the teenager. With Robert and Renly gone, the Baratheon Estate fell into the hands of Stannis. Never had he felt so alone as he did the day Loras packed and left. Due to the stupid laws that did not recognize their marriage, he had no legal rights to family property nor guardianship of Gendry. They promised to keep in touch, but communication stopped after a couple of months. The spark and flare that his uncles used to breathe life into the house vanished when Renly's heart stopped. Now, it was nothing more than a stack of bricks inhabited by a couple of crypt keepers. 

Neither his uncle Stannis or his wife, Selyse, was unbearable. Quite the contrary, they were good people, _to a fault_. Other than his aunt's odd fixation and shrines to the children they lost than the one that lived, he didn't find anything wrong with them. He didn't hate them, either. Part of him was almost certain they didn't hate him, though it often felt like they did. They simply had their beliefs, and those beliefs were iron-clad. Their expectation for him to convert and live as they did was what made them butt heads. 

The only bright side to this newest situation was that he got to know his cousin, Shireen. Neglect was a common trait in Baratheon fathers, apparently, and it was what bonded the two. In less than a year, they discovered a kinship between that lacked elsewhere in the family tree. She was twelve, timid, and sharper than he ever was at her age. Life wasn't as dark or dull with someone who shared in his loneliness. But like everything else, that wouldn't last either. 

Today they had ridden to town to conduct some business, leaving Gendry to look after Shireen. That was when he'd seen it up close for the first time, a traveling carnival. It was the kind of show that traveled from town to town, something he didn't know existed anymore. Excited to take a closer peek, Gendry had taken his cousin by the hand and dragged her with him. The carnival came with arcade games, park rides, and even a fortune-teller. They fed off the energy there, laughing and running along to experience as much as they could before it all came crashing down. 

When Stannis found them later that day, he was furious. 

The things he had said to Gendry had hurt, though the teenager had hidden it. What had cut him to the core were the things his uncle left unsaid, the way he had looked at Gendry. _Half-Robert, half-lowborn._ Neither of which were thought highly of in his eyes. Shireen's defense didn't help, and they had banished her to her room without supper. Not that it stopped the little spitfire from communicating with him through the walkie-talkies she had scavenged from the attic months ago. Her naturally rebellious spirit and intelligence to find loopholes paired nicely with his defiant and stubborn personality. It was no wonder, really, that her parents had issues with the two getting along. In spite of this, however, the constant arguments between her parents took a toll on Shireen. They had both wished for more positive attention from either adult, but his cousin more than him. She just wanted to be seen and heard, not treated like a mischievous poltergeist amongst the memory of her dead siblings. Gendry stayed up with her until she dozed off, wanting to distract his cousin while her parents fought downstairs. Hours later, they still argued. 

He strode across the bedroom to open the window and breathe the mild evening air. The faint glow of the carnival's neon lights in the distance called out to him. If he squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated past the shouting from below, Gendry could almost hear and smell the fairgrounds. Frustration balled in the pit of his gut as it all pulled and tugged at his reserve. He had to get away while there was still some part of him left. Regret followed close behind when he imagined Shireen stuck with these people. They would likely drive the light right out of her eyes without someone to look after her. The memory of his mother's dull eyes and Selyse's grim features made the regret knot tightly into his gut. What was it about Baratheon men and their ability to suck out all the life from the people around them? Would he do the same when he found someone to share his life with? Gendry clutched the window panel and exhaled through his nose. Would he be doing it to Shireen if he left her here tonight? 

Renly had been the only exception. The teenager's shoulders shook as he thought of his uncle, the emptiness his absence left behind. Gendry kept the loss close, unwilling to share his grief with the rest of the world. Just like with his mother. 

_Mother._

Her image filled his head, what he could remember of her, anyway. She had beautiful blonde hair and a pretty face. He remembered wanting to touch her jaw or cheek when she curled up with and sang to him. The strands of her hair curtained around him as he dozed off in her arms. Gendry also remembered the faraway look she often had with a habit of staring into the distance just over his right shoulder. His mother longer for so many things in life that had been kept beyond her reach. Things death denied her ever obtaining. 

There was a tightness to his chest that outweighed the knot in his stomach. The feeling wasn't new; he was an outsider. Even in King's Landing, he felt it, and he wondered if she had too. He would not live a disappointed and unfulfilled life like her. His heart began to pound, and he rested his forehead against the window, thinking of freedom. No one could tell him how to think or how to act. He could wear his blue jeans and listen to rock'n'roll. Gendry would grab life with both hands and live the way he wanted. 

Glancing out into the distance again, he saw the carnival. A traveling show was just the opportunity he needed to get out. One step at a time, he would pave his own way. Nothing would remain out of his reach. He turned back to gather up his things and shove them into an old bag. Gendry jotted down a quick note addressed to Shireen that apologized for his decision. He reminded her of how strong and smart she was in his eyes with promises to write later. Then, he placed it on the nightstand beside his bed with the walkie-talkie on top. After that, he swung down from his open window, then made his way down to the ground. 

It was time to make his dreams a reality. 

* * *

Crow's Carnival was a one of a kind traveling group that was part amusement park and part circus. Twenty years before the rise of high-tech parks, the traveling troupe was a major attraction in the country. They traveled year-round throughout Westeros based on the season of an area, staying a few days or a week, then moving on. These days, a carnival like Crow's was in less demand than during that glorious heyday. Now, they traveled to rural areas, places with little access to big, fancy, theme parks.

There was always something to gawk at for the preadolescent crowd who hungered for something to do. The fire-eaters and snake charmers were favorite among the young while the teenagers and adults gravitated toward the rides and games of chance. Everybody loved the fortune-teller, especially this summer, as the show's owner had managed to snare a really good one. Known as Madame Melisandre on the circuit, the redhead was the genuine article or slick fraud like most of the other sideshow acts. If Yoren had any doubt about her, they quickly vanished as word spread of her abilities and towners began lining up for the fortunes told.

In thirteen-year-old Arry Snow's opinion, the red witch gave her the creeps. She put as much space between herself and the woman as possible. Arry suggested her father do the same even though Yoren had made him an assistant manager last year. She had yet to figure out the history between Yoren and her father. What truly puzzled her was why he chose to work for this third-rate, traveling fleabag of a show. Her father possessed leadership skills and had a vast knowledge of how to handle large groups of people. The one time she suggested he find somewhere that paid him for his worth, Ed responded that he liked traveling with Yoren and that money didn't buy happiness. She supposed she liked traveling, too, but she didn't follow the bit about money and happiness. From what she had seen of life, rich folks seemed a whole lot happier than poor ones.

Arry ducked out of her and her father's trailer and headed toward the midway. Living accommodations for the entire troupe located on the northernmost edge of the lot, far away from the activity of the show. Even so, she could hear the carousel's calliope and the screams of delighted terror coming from the Screamin' Dragons, the show's rather modest roller coaster. 

She and her father traveled with Yoren during the summers. Come autumn, they would settle somewhere in a little town. Ed would get a job at a local diner or drugstore, and Arry would go back to school. The teenager made a face at the thought of returning to school in a couple of months. School sucked, in her opinion. She hated everything about it except the art and math classes. There were schools she had attended in the past that were too small and backward. They didn't even have an art close, and then it totally sucked. 

In truth, whether the school had an art class or not didn't matter, because they never stayed in any place too long. About the time she had a reputation as a smart-mouthed troublemaker, they would move on. Arry counted more than a dozen schools she had gone to in the last few years. For as long as she could remember, they had always traveled this way. Her father said they were nomadic adventurers with Yoren's show the only stability in their life. All the moving around didn't add up, which led the teenager to believe they were criminals or something. 

The young girl climbed over the barricade that circled the perimeter of the carnival. It separated what was called the front yard from the back yard, the towners from the troupers. She didn't have a set job with the group but helped as much as needed. Arry liked pulling her own weight around here. She was always the first to help set up and tear down. Sometimes they let her fill in for the troupers who were ill or requested off. Mostly, she worked as a sort of swindler to drum up business for various games of chance. 

Arry had played each game about a million times, no exaggeration there. She knew the trick of winning and made it look easy. So easy, that as she walked away, arms full of prizes, folks eagerly lined up to win. As the evening progressed, the carnival was in full swing of business. The fairgrounds were packed, but not enough that the guests would bump shoulders often. The scent of popcorn hit in a nauseating wave. Her love for the snack died after spending so much time around it. 

Her gaze moved up and down the aisle of game booths, noting that most were busy except for the coin toss. The wolf-child marked a few people nearby as her intended target, then strolled over. She stopped at the booth as if sizing it up. "What do I do?" she asked Dobber, an obnoxious zit-face of a boy. They didn't get along and for a good reason. He was part of Polliver's circle-jerk group, and they butted heads often. However, this was business and for the carnival.

Dobber slipped over to her and pretended to explain the game to her. There was an overpowering musky scent that clung to his clothes, and she tried her best not to make a face. He must have noticed her masking a reaction because the zit-face purposely got closer. Arry smiled through clenched teeth. "That's all?"

"That's it," he grinned slyly. "Easy as pie." Their shoulders bumped up against each other when she reached for some change in her pocket. His breath was foul, and she was glad when he moved back to the booth. The stench of popcorn and cotton candy replaced the musk immediately. Her stomach clenched, but she fought against the urge to vomit. 

Arry deliberately missed twice for the sake of realism. On the third try, she carefully checked over her shoulder to see that her target had gained interest in the booth. She expertly flipped the coin so it would land flat. When it did, the girl clapped her hands excitedly and squealed. She swung with a disbelieving delight toward the people behind her. "I won! I can't believe it!"

"Here you go, little lady," Dobber said, and handed her a stuffed stag.

A handful of coins later, she walked away from the now-crowded booth, her arms loaded with stuffed toys. She dumped them as she went by the supply wagon, then skipped back to the midway for some more fun.

* * *

"This made me sick." 

The accusation made Arry's ears burn, and she stopped dead in her tracks. Yeah, she may have her issues with the carnival food from overexposure to it, but they kept strictly to the health code. When she glanced over to see that it was Hot Pie's trailer, the teenager's hands balled into fists. He was another one that was a little older than she. They didn't get along much, but he and his roommate, Lommy, were better than Polliver's group. What didn't settle well with her was someone lying about Hot Pie's food. 

"I think it's bad or something," a boy said loudly, and a crowd began to gather at one of the concession stands. He stood at the front of the line, clutching his stomach and holding out a half-eaten hot dog. Arry inched closer to inspect the scene. She may have been mistaken by referring to the instigator as a boy. He was taller than most, even bent over. Hot Pie was large for his age, which was why many didn't start anything with him. The other guy, though, was broader and definitely taller. 

"What do ya mean it made ya sick?" He eyed the stranger suspiciously. She was pretty sure Hot Pie was on the verge of chasing the guy away with a rolling pin. That would be a sight to spice up the night. 

The people behind him in line stirred and moved backward as he groaned and doubled over as with cramps. He raised his voice a bit more now that the crowd had thickened. "Sick, you know. Isn't it against the law to serve rotten meat?"

"We don't serve rotten meat," Hot Pie defended, his voice shrill. He leaned away, his face twisting with disgust when the complaining teenager held out the food to him for a smell. "I don't want to smell it. If it's a problem, I'll give ya back your money."

Arry watched as the boy moaned. The line stirred again; several people turned to walk away. Someone made a nasty comment about the carnival, which made her frown. She studied the boy from her place among the crowd. He looked weird with his hair cropped unevenly, like from a pair of kitchen shears. The front of his t-shirt had some band name on it, and his jeans looked worn. Arry guessed it was a trend, but it looked odd with the work boots than a pair of tennis shoes. She didn't know what to make of him. 

What she did know was that he couldn't be for real about the hot dog. He was trying to scam Hot Pie, no doubt about it. She had seen a hint of a smile tug at his mouth as he bent over the last time. He likely wanted money. The lengths people would go to for money disgusted her. She crossed her arms over her chest, head tilted to the side when the stranger declined a refund. Arry's nose scrunched up as she watched the scene unfold.

"I want to talk to the owner or a manager. If I die, it's going to be your fault."

"Yoren Crow is the owner," Hot Pie was saying, obviously anxious to get rid of him before he tossed his cookies. "You can probably find him at the little top. That's the sideshow tent." He pointed in the direction of the tent.

_Bingo_ , Arry thought. She narrowed her eyes and decided to get to the bottom of this. Nobody was going to pull a fast one on Crow's, not if she had anything to say about it. The teenager still clutched his stomach and hot dog as he turned around. He hobbled in the direction Hot Pie indicated. Arry followed, keeping him in sight but keeping her distance, too. A moment later, he tossed the hot dog in the trash can and straightened quickly. She made a sound of triumph. She knew it, the creep was up to something.

"Hey! Horseface!"

The girl stopped and glared over her shoulder at Polliver, the devil himself. She must have mentally said his name one too many times tonight because here he was in the flesh. He was the bald jerk who ran the shooting gallery. A particularly odious creature, she must admit, who probably had roots in a hate group or another in Westeros. Some rumors indicated as much and that he sought refuge at the carnival to avoid prison. Yoren was all about second chances for the outcast in society, but even Polliver and his circle-jerk tested the limits. 

When she and her father first joined Crow's, he and a couple of his equally gross friends had tried to scare her by locking her in the funhouse after closing. Instead of scaring her, he'd made her mad. She found Polliver after escaping and popped him square in the nose, bloodying it. He had never forgiven her for that. But he'd never tried to scare her again, either. It was one of the major lessons Arry learned the hard way in school, then applied it everywhere she went. Some people just needed to be put in their place from the beginning, and she enjoyed putting them there. 

"What do you want?" She propped her fists on her hips.

"Amory sent Woth to cover the coaster for a while. I need to take a piss, and if I don't leave now, I'm gonna drown one of the customers. Get over here."

"Do you always have to be so gross?" Arry stared at the mystery boy's retreating back and then to Polliver. From where she stood, she could practically smell the mint that he used to cover up the ale stench. "You're disgusting. Find someone else." She began to head in her original direction. 

"If you don't get your ass over here, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you." The smile he offered to some passing customers looked more like a snarl. He leaned further over the booth with a pointed finger aimed right at her. She supposed he meant for it to look threatening, but the teenager knew he wouldn't try anything. 

"Yeah. Right. I'm so scared." She cocked her chin up. "Pretty clever, the way you snuck off the lot last night to meet that girl. Hardly anybody saw you. _Except me_. What do you think Yoren or Ed would say about that?" A hit to the nose wasn't the only thing that kept Polliver on his toes. He knew who her father was and the authority Yoren gave him. One word from her and he'd be out of here for good. 

"You're such a little twit. I wish you'd fall off the face of the planet."

"And you're a brainless butthead." Her brow arched as she crossed her arms over her chest, smug. He was all bark and no bite. 

"You're just jealous 'cause no boy's ever going to want to sneak out to meet you. You act more like a boy than a girl."

For a moment, Arry couldn't find her breath, and her eyes burned. Horrified by the reaction, she struggled to keep him from seeing how much his comment hurt. The last thing she needed was for Polliver to know he'd found a way under her skin. Once more, she tipped her chin for show. Why should she care if he thought she was ugly? It was Polliver and as stupid as he was gross. "Watch it, or I'll get the red witch to put a curse on you."

The jerk snorted in amusement, but only after a moment's hesitation. Showmen were notoriously superstitious. In some way, the troupe feared Melisandre. If she could see their future, then she could also change it for the worse. With that in mind, people tended to keep their distance. Even the mere mention of her had the repulsive reptile side-eyeing the crowd in search of the fortune-teller. Arry grinned. _Silly delinquents,_ she thought victoriously. Sometimes a girl needed a little threat to hang over a bully's head; it was a way to even the odds a bit. Using their fears didn't make her too popular, but that was tough nuts. She was used to not being liked, to not having a lot of friends. Besides, when she and her father left, she wouldn't be leaving anyone behind.

Nevertheless, her detest for Polliver wasn't enough in the end. Like Dobber, they were part of the same troupe, and he needed help. She took one last look in the direction of the mystery boy who had disappeared already. Arry sighed and turned back to the jerk. "Go already. Hurry back. I've got things to do." 


	3. No Contingency Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry is stubborn and having some trouble. Arry is protective and wants to make a friend. Things don't exactly work out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a month later, here is the update! I really meant to post chapters 1-2 weeks apart, but then the world went to hell in a handbasket. Between being sick (not the virus) and having two children at home full-time, it's not been easy to sit down and finish. There will most definitely be mistakes despite combing through the chapter several times. Towards the end, I got tired of agonizing over anything lol! 
> 
> If you don't follow me on IG, I post clues about upcoming chapters in the comment section. They get posted after I reply to everyone. 
> 
> I'll probably do this every chapter, but a huge shoutout to the readers who left comments and kudos. I tend to read and reread between writing. So thank you for the encouragement and inspiration to continue forward! Nothing is worth it without readers.

He had no contingency plan. The realization rolled around in his head as he marched through the fairgrounds. If this didn’t work, he didn’t know how the hell he would get out of Storm’s End. 

Gendry understood the hot dog scheme wouldn’t land him any favors later; However, he’d been desperate after asking a half-dozen carnival employees who the owner or manager was and where he could find him. Each time, they’d met his inquiry with surliness and suspicion. They all told him there were no jobs available. Determination swelled inside of him. He wiped his damp hands on his newly resurrected jeans and shifted the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder.

He made his way down the wide, crowded midway. People streamed around him, laughing with each other, jostling him as they passed by. A group of rowdy teenagers pushed past him. One girl giggled and glanced back at Gendry, but not in admiration. The teenager gazed down at what he wore, then scowled. When Stannis moved into the house, he had conditions that came with living under the same roof. The first thing to go was Gendry’s attire, substituted for whatever worked best with their conservative and religious lifestyle. In the last six months, he’d grown taller, and his shoulders had broadened. Consequently, the clothes he’d dug out of storage before he left were too short and too tight. He looked like a total idiot.

Gendry stiffened at the jeers behind his back, then straightened his shoulders. One day, he vowed, he would be someone important. It wouldn’t be because of who his family was or his last name. No, he would do this alone. And one day, they would beg to be around him. He fought the temptation to turn around and flip the group off. As much as he wanted to start something to help shake the adrenaline of running away, Gendry couldn’t risk the only shot he had. 

Up ahead, he saw the tent the concession guy mentioned and immediately forgot about the asswipes from earlier. The tent was empty, aside from a man sweeping trash. He eyed the burly man. It seemed doubtful that he was the carnival’s owner, but he may know Yoren Crow’s location. Not wanting to waste another moment, he moved farther into the tent and cleared his throat.

“The next show’s not for an hour,” the man said without even a courtesy glance. “Come back then.” He pushed the large pile of trash towards the end of the stands. It was no wonder everyone around here was in a mood, Gendry thought as he eyed the amount of trash people left behind. Unlike Robert or Renly, Stannis never spent money on a cleaning crew. After any social event the Baratheon family attended, they gave both Shireen and him supplies and told it would build character. Though this was nothing like the fancy charities or fundraisers he had attended, he understood the pain of cleaning up someone else’s mess. 

The teenager swallowed his fear and the instinct to use his last name. No, he wanted to get his foot in the door by himself. He wanted people to judge him for his character and skills, not for his connection to an old ass family. “I’m not here for the show,” his voice croaked. Where the hell was that Baratheon charm now, anyway? “I’m looking for the boss.”

“That so?” The battered custodian stepped down and swept the trash at his feet to the other end of the stand. When he made it to the end, his eyes located Gendry. It wasn’t until then he got a good look at the guy. Battered was an understatement. It was as if someone used his head once as a ball to their bat. Once upon a time, he must have been built like a gorilla, thick and strong. Hell, he certainly carried himself that way still. Disfigurements aside, he didn’t seem like the type of person you went up against without regretting it later. His black gaze swept over the teenager from top to bottom, unimpressed with what he saw. For a second, Gendry swore the old man might want to throw down just to see if you could. No doubt, it had been his pleasure to flatten many punks in his day. 

“You know where I might find him?”  


“You already did,” he grumbled, and a flash of pain streaked crossed his features. The old man leaned against the broom handle and massaged the twisted shoulder. Gendry fought the wince as he took in more about the man’s appearance. What he thought were lumps from his clothing were actually parts of his body.  


“Yoren Crow?”  


At the obvious disbelief in the teenager’s tone, Yoren’s mouth twitched. “None other. And you are?”  


“Gendry Ba- Gendry Waters.” He held out his hand, but the gesture went ignored. The owner returned to sweeping. Being dismissed so easily poked holes in his usual bravado. “I’m looking for a job,” the teenager said with less confidence, almost a whisper.

“Figured that. You eighteen?” Yoren eyed him again, sizing him up once more His grim expression openly doubtful.  


“Just last month,” he lied, partially. His birthday was last month, but he smudged the age. Later, Gendry would need to remember to give a different year so that his facts aligned.   


“Funny, I’d guess you to be younger than that.”  


“Well, I’m not. And I’m a hard worker. I can do any kind of job.”  


“Your parents know you’re here? That you want to run off and join the carnival?”  


“N-I don’t…got none,” Gendry stuttered through. The last part sounded more like a question than a statement. He inwardly cringed and prayed the owner bought it. People of lower status didn’t have the same education as he had. It was one more thing he would have to work on fitting in his story. At least Gendry was honest about being an orphan. 

Yoren shook his head, losing any patience. He turned his head towards the pile at his feet and spat something thick and brown. “Look, kid, I’ve seen a whole lotta shit during my years on the circuit. A whole lotta ugly shit. Been in the business as long as I can remember. It’s in my blood. But if it wasn’t, I’d be outta here.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that. There’re other things a boy like you can do with your life. Go do one of ‘em. Go home. I don’t need any help.”

When the owner turned to walk away, Gendry stared after him, stunned. As fast as the snap of his fingers, Yoren rejected his offer. Not willing to go out without a fight, the teenager rushed after him. “Wait! I’ll do anything. The dirtiest, most low-down job you have. Just give me a chance.” Desperation wasn't the best look, but he was reaching a critical point. 

The old man’s features softened in sympathy, a feat that likely didn't happen often. The last thing he wanted was a pity-party, but if it was what got him the job. Unfortunately, Yoren didn't go that far. He shook his head, hinting that he wanted the conversation to come to a close. “I got no jobs available. I’m sorry, kid.”

“Someone could quit or get fired. Might need someone just in case.”

“Nobody quits during mid-season, and I can’t afford _just in case_. None of my boys want to get caught without a way back when winter hits. And the only thing that’ll get one of my crew fired is drinking, fighting, or hittin’ on the local jailbait. They know better. Is that plain enough for you?” He jerked his thumb towards the carnival’s exit, leaving no room for any other argument. A few others entered the tent and he pointed to the mess he had started to clean for them. They nodded, then went to work. None of them had even given him a second glance. Gendry watched Yoren walk away. 

By the time he exited the tent, Yoren had disappeared into the crowd. Tonight was the carnival’s last night in Storm’s End. Tomorrow would be too late. Gendry pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, hard. Though he had stolen enough of his own money back from Stannis when he left the house, it wouldn’t last long. He couldn’t afford to shadow the traveling troupe until someone left. Within an hour of being a runaway, Gendry learned two important lessons. One, words are wind when you’re an outsider. Second, desperate times call for desperate measures. Cliche as they were, these lessons were the epitome of making it in the world. Since no one could take him for his word, the teenager needed to create a situation to prove himself. What he needed was a foot in the door. 

Careful to keep an eye out for the money spent, he walked up and down the midway. The opportunity presented itself when he overheard two carnies arguing louder than necessary. Gendry stopped in front of a booth and pretended to watch the customers play the game ahead of him. Every few minutes, he’d feign interest in something in their general direction. It gave him the chance to pick anything useful. One boy taunted the other with sexual exploits with a girl he wanted. To his utter delight, he spotted a small bag of weed in one guy’s hand. When a customer approached, they tucked away the bag behind the stand. An idea occurred, and Gendry hid the smirk with the slurp of his soda. 

He watched for some time, moving between games and rides. They drank from a metal flask on the sly when they thought no one paid them any attention. Their tempers were short by towards the middle of the evening. The carnival was in full swing, and the alcohol dulled their inhibitions. As far as he knew, they hadn’t moved the bag from behind the stand all night. A fight would break out if it mysteriously went missing. All he needed was— _a girl_. Not just any girl, but the one they had fought over earlier. He hopped off the enlarged teacup and made his way back over to their booth. Personally, except for the pair of awesome hooters covered by a severely overextended tube top, he didn’t see what all the fuss was about. While the two carnies fell all over themselves to compete for the girl’s attention, Gendry reached over and snatched the bag.

Heart thundering, he stuffed the bag of weed into his front pockets and quickly moved out of sight. As soon as the girl walked away, both boys bickered about who she liked more. Gendry waited until the argument turned heated and gathered the attention of everyone around them. He tossed the bag nearby, making it appear as if they had dropped it. Obscene shouts filled the air, followed by sounds of physical violence that threatened to break the booth. The Baratheon teenager snuck away, bumping into a smaller girl in a pair of overalls. Gendry barely noted the tussled brown buns on top of her head and the odd silver glint of her eyes before he apologized. 

She didn’t get aggressive with him as some might have, but he should have paid closer attention to the suspicion in her narrowed eyes. He apologized once more and took off to the other side of the booth and blended in with the crowd. By then, the fighting had attracted more than just customers and fellow carnies. Yoren Crow marched down the midway with a bat placed on his shoulder. Another man walked the wings of his warpath, looking almost bored with the situation. The crowd divided as the older men approached. 

Immediately, the boys separated and got to their feet. From the reaction alone at the sight of the bat, Gendry suspected Yoren wouldn’t hesitate to take a swing. Hell, he likely already had by the way they cowered when he lowered it to the ground. The second man that entered the scene with the carnival owner turned towards the crowd. Calmly, he defused the energy, then gestured to some other carnies. Gendry watched in amazement as the employees hyped-up their stations to distract the crowd away. Yoren’s gritty voice brought his focus back to the booth, unaware of two sets of grey eyes watching him. 

Both boys argued over what the fight was about until the disfigured owner grabbed his bat again. The second man stepped up to the scene with the bag of weed in hand. Yoren ripped the bag from the guy’s hand and dumped out the contents. Then, he ordered the boys to pack up their things. Their expressions went slack right before they went down on their knees and begged for second chances. The old man didn’t budge. He slapped the bat into his palm for emphasis and pointed them out of the booth. 

Gendry didn't wait long after that to jog after Yoren. "Mr. Crow!" He stopped short of colliding with the owner and his assistant. Though the teenager's plan ended in victory, he couldn't ignore the fixed scowl on the old man's face. All too aware of his beefy fists around the bat, Gendry swallowed and jumped in. "I saw what happened." Wrong choice of words, he noted as Yoren's knuckles turned white. The other man beside him put a hand on his shoulder. "Uhh...I mean-what I meant was...uhh...you-um look like you might need some help," he cleared his throat and tried to calm the erratic rhythm of his heart. "A possible position has opened up, and I could..." 

Despite his nerves, he held the man's intent gaze, never wavering or breaking eye contact. Only when the second man bent forward to whisper something into Yoren's ear did he notice a familiar grey to the guy's eyes. He'd seen it somewhere before, he swore it, but couldn't place it right then and there. The carnival owner nodded and swatted his assistant away. 

"You start now," Yoren commanded and handed him a roll of black trash bags from under his belt. "Get to work. Come find me when the night is over."

* * *

Crow’s Carnival traveled south to Blackhaven, where they would end the Stormlands circuit. The closer they got to Dorne, the hotter the temperatures reached. It was beyond Gendry why they went south during the summer, but he wasn’t in charge. For the last several days, he had done the work of two men. He promised Yoren as much, and he meant to keep his word. After hauling and spreading bales of straw, he sought a barrel of water. The managers kept barrels throughout the fairground while they set up so that employees could stay cool and hydrated. Gendry removed the bandanna from around his neck and drenched it. Not even midday and the sun beat down on him like hellfire. 

He snorted, not quite amused at how similar it was to the welcoming reaction he got from the other carnies. Initiation began the first morning when Yoren introduced him to the group at breakfast, then left him to fend for himself. Gendry was the last to eat and the first one to leave the food tent. The guy in charge of the employee meals was the same guy he offended the night before with his hot dog scheme. He ended up with scraps for breakfast, then met with a wall of silence from everyone else. After ten minutes, he dumped his plate in the trash and walked out. 

The Baratheon fury boiled close to the surface once the pranks began. As warned, the carnies were rough, coarse, and brutal. When word got out that he replaced two of their friends, a group of boys targeted him daily. Gendry sported a swollen black eye and a busted lip, thanks to their latest harassment. Everyone knew what happened, but none had come to his defense. To them, he was still an outsider that played some part in the expulsion of people they knew. No one trusted him after that, and he couldn’t blame them. Unless a manager ordered someone to help him do a job, they stayed clear of him. 

He brought the cold bandanna to his eye and winced. Last night, someone in a mask woke him with a knife to his throat. They threatened to slit it open if he didn’t quit, yet here he stood. Gendry knew all he needed to do was earn their respect. Unfortunately, that meant the risk of being caught in a fight. He soaked the fabric in water once more, then wrapped it around his neck. The water ran down his shoulders and back, making him sigh in appreciation. Gendry could handle what they dished out. Nobody would screw this opportunity up for him. 

"I saw what you did the other night." 

The teenager swung around to find a scruffy girl behind him. She studied him with her head cocked to the side and arms folded across her chest. At a glance, he almost mistook her for a boy. Though her eyes are what captured his attention. They were an uncanny grey color that reminded him of the storm clouds back home. Her dark brown hair pulled to the back with a bright rubber band that held most of it together. Several strands escaped framing her face, which was how he recognized her as a girl. It was her clothes, he reckoned, that made her appear like a boy. She was in a pair of overalls and a t-shirt, a size too big for her body. 

"Hello? Stupid? Anyone in there?" Obviously displeased by his reaction, she waved a hand in front of his face. "I said, I saw what you did. The hot dog con to get a job here. Hope you don't mind eating crap for the rest of your life."

Damn kid was too smart for her own good. By the looks of it, he’d be smart to not try and deny it either. Instead, he shrugged and bent down to splash water on his face. “So?” Gendry wiped his eyes with the end of his tank top. He debated taking his shit off completely since being out in the sun like this would eventually begin to leave its mark on his skin. 

“Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Mr. Crow?” As confident as the girl sounded, he noticed her eyes averted to her shoes when he looked back up at her. 

“Why should I be? You’re just a snot-nosed kid.” He turned to walk away, determined to finish before lunch. Though, from the sounds of it, he shouldn’t try to hurry. It’s not like a gourmet meal awaited him. What he didn’t expect was the know-it-all to follow him. 

She huffed in annoyance from behind him, then sped up so they walked side-by-side. “I am not a snot-nosed kid. I’m thirteen, for your information.” 

“Gee, a whole thirteen.” The amusement out of this interaction began to lose its luster when she continued to shadow his every move. 

"You're right, Mr. Crow wouldn't have cared. It was a pretty cool scam. _But_ the other one might piss him off." 

Gendry stopped dead in his tracks and faced her sharply. She lifted her chin as if to dare him to tell her she was wrong. The brat went as far as to look smug about catching him off guard for a second time today. _"Fuck,"_ he swore under his breath. That's where he recognized her from! The girl he crashed into right before the big fight. He met her eyes with every intention to act like he didn't care. "Interesting fairy tale, kid. See you around." 

To his dismay, she didn't take the hint and followed him. She was like a tiny lost puppy who found someone to cling to, and he couldn't shake her. And _gods did she talk._ "When I saw you at the concession stand, I thought you were up to something, so I followed you. I saw the whole thing." Her short legs skipped a few times to catch up with him, but even then, she had to walk faster than usual. Still, she didn't tell him to slow down or complain about it. 

"It's my word against yours, kid. And I don't know what you're talking about," he scowled. 

"Don't look so worried. I hated those guys. They were total pigs," she huffed. He thought she had run out of steam, but nope. Like I shadow, she was there just on the edges of his elbows. The girl tried to cover up her labored breath by laughing. "I'm glad they're gone." After a bit, she leaned conspiratorially towards him. "You're secret's safe with me." 

Gendry raised a brow in her direction, questioning both of their sanities at one point. It's just what he always wanted, to be in cahoots with a thirteen-year-old busybody. He only imagined what Polliver and his crew would say. At the last moment, he made a sharp turn to head in the opposite direction. She turned and quickly caught back up to him. 

"My name is Arry."

"Whatever."

The supply tent was ahead of them. A manager or someone with authority would hand out jobs, and he could get rid of her. Then, she could bug someone else for the day. Gendry felt her nearby without having to glance back. When she didn't get the hint, he made a sound of annoyance and stopped. Arry halted, breathing heavily underneath the afternoon sun. The strands of hair that once framed her face now clung to the sides from sweat. "Look, kid. Buzz off, I've got work to do."

She squinted when she tilted her head back to look up at him. Ignoring his comment completely, she reached out to touch the swollen flesh around his eye. It was as if she was staring at him, truly, for the first time since he arrived. “Where did you get the black eyes?” Her inquiry was more out of respect, he concluded. The girl knew exactly who gave it to him. 

The hairs on his neck bristled, and he felt his nostrils flare. “None of your business.” Gendry glared at her, hard, in the hopes it might scare her off. She screwed her face up in thought. 

“It was one of them.” What was the point of asking him in the first place if she already knew the answer? “They’re pissed at you because you replaced their friends.”

He smacked her hand away, unsure of why it upset him so much when she said it aloud. “Yeah? Tough shit. They’ll get over it.” 

Arry didn’t seem offended by the rude gesture. Instead, she clasped her hands behind her back. “I’ll tell you what to do about those creeps.” 

Gendry scoffed, rolled his eyes, and turned to head towards the supply tent. She skipped casually until she fell into step with him again. “Give ‘em a good pop,” then made a motion with her fists for emphasis. “They’ll respect that.”

By now, he was sure the scowl became a permanent fixture on his features. “Oh? What do you know? You’re just a kid—a girl—at that.”

“So? Girls can know anything boys can.” He gave her a look, and she got defensive. “They can! Besides, you don’t see any black eyes on me, do you?” 

Exasperated, Gendry stopped so suddenly she collided with his back. He turned around despite his better judgment. Why did he keep stopping and talking to her? “Is there some reason you’ve singled me out?” 

"You're not as stupid as the other boys. I like you."

"Another great life accomplishment," Gendry threw his hands in the air with a scoff. He dropped his arms until they smacked against his sides and walked away from the girl. 

"You can't let them push you around. I met a lot of tough-guy types in school." 

"I'll bet." They entered the supply tent one after the other. He signed out one of the tool belts and began to fill it with the items he'd need for the next job. Arry was on the other side of the shelf, handing him a tool when he couldn't find it. She removed some hair from her face. 

"I'm the new girl too many times. You know what that means."

"You see-" he stopped as she handed him a wrench, "seem intent on telling me."

"I am."

Gendry snatched the tool from across the shelf and shoved it in one pocket at his waist. “So do it and then leave me alone.”

Arry cocked her chin, something he noticed her doing when she wanted someone to take her seriously. He had a habit of doing it, too. It was a similarity he wasn’t keen on sharing, nor any others. “You don’t have to be such a crabapple.” The brunette folded her arms on the shelf closest to her height, standing on tiptoes so they maintained some eye contact. “Be smarter and tougher. When they give you crap, dish out double the payback. That’s what I do.” 

“I’m sure you’re quite the popular one.”

"Better than you right now." She countered. "You need allies, too. Pack. The lone wolf-"

"Pack? When the hell did we become wolves?" Gendry drew his hand to his face with a sigh. It was sound advice and something he already thought about doing. He didn’t want to make trouble for Yoren, though. If they caught him fighting, he’d be out just like those other two idiots. “I’ll think about it, all right?” Gendry removed his hand and rested his forehead on the shelf above his head. “Now for the last time, will you buzz off?” 

When he walked away this time, it relieved him she stayed put. At the risk of attracting his second shadow again, Gendry glanced over his shoulder. He paused at the tent’s entrance, frowning at how out of place Arry looked among the surrounding activity. He couldn’t stop thinking about his mother and the faraway look in her eyes. The teenager steeled his spine and exited the tent. If she was lonely, it was her own damn fault for being a pest. She wasn’t his problem, and he’d let her parents worry about it. Gendry shook his head later when the grey-eyed girl crossed his mind, a smirk on his lips. He tried to imagine what it would be like being responsible for someone like Arry. Forget sugar and spice, that girl was nothing but piss, vinegar, and trouble with a capital T. The further he stayed away from her, the better his life would be. 

* * *

**Sunspear - Summer 1989**

The kid did not give him the chance to keep his distance. 

Morning, noon, and night, it didn’t matter where he was or what he was doing. For the last three weeks, she dogged his every step. Gendry could turn around or look up, and there she’d be with a stupid ass grin. The only person who volunteered to help him with any of his tasks was the one person who annoyed the hell out of him with questions or giving unwanted advice. _And she talked_ so damn much without ever taking a hint. Gendry was barely holding his own among the others. Because of her kiddie crush, he was the butt of all their jokes. He heard the jeers of the other guys as he passed, their snickers, the little ditty they chanted every time he was near enough. They all thought it was hilarious. He would have to put an end to all this and soon.

"Hi, Gendry," the pest in question greeted him with a bubbly voice too perky for the early hour. She plopped down next to him at the picnic table inside the mess tent as he dropped his spoon. "What are you doing?" 

"I was eating my breakfast," he gritted at the unappetizing porridge in the bowl below. His spoon sunk into the thick concoction, and he sighed heavily. From across the tent, he saw two sideshow performers watching them, their expressions openly amused. One of them winked at him and began mouthing some words Gendry knew were from the chant. He clenched his teeth and wiped his mouth with a napkin. When he went to stand, so did Arry. She scurried after him as he carried his tray to the bussing station. Without acknowledging her further, Gendry walked away. 

Arry caught up with him within moments. "If you'd just apologize to Hot Pie about the hot dog thing, he'd forgive you." She tried to match his pace. "Or you could stop by my trailer for breakfast. My dad makes us waffles. Hey, did you know you have a broken sole in your boot? You should talk to Lommy," he picked up the pace, and she huffed doing the same. "He assists with costumes and makeup for the performers, but he can fix things, too. I can't stitch for the life of me and have to ask him a lot of times to figure something out. You're quiet today, is something the matter?" 

When he didn't answer, she rushed ahead of him and tugged on his elbow to stop him. Gendry glared at the kid, exhaling through his nose. The light in her eyes faded as her gaze went from his nose to the newest cuts and bruises. She indicated the largest bruise on his cheek with the pads of her fingertips. He held his breath, tensing at the delicate way she studied his injuries. It was the kindest gesture he'd received since he ran away from home. Arry reminded him of Shireen, then. The show of compassion towards those who wouldn't think twice about blowing them off. 

The featherlight touch of her fingers reached the re-opened cut on his top lip. Her touch was warm, but it didn't sting. He didn't know what to make of it or the look on her face when her brows furrowed. "I see those creeps nailed you again," Arry's tone was soft, which was a contrast to the hard edges of the expression she wore. "They make me sick." Something flickered in her eyes, and she dropped her hand immediately. 

"It's no big deal," Gendry whispered, still stunned by the interaction. 

"They're doing it to others," she continued, oblivious to the way his cobalt-colored eyes followed the rough edges of her features. She wrapped her tiny arms around her waist and glanced out at the crowd. "No one will go to the bosses because they're too scared. But if enough filed complaints against Polliver, then Mr. Crow would have to kick him out." 

And then her gaze was on him, expectantly, burning a hole right through his skull. He blinked. "What?" Gendry easily read the word _stupid_ in those stormy grey eyes of hers. Arry took hold of his hand, and then it all clicked. "Oh, no. No, no, no," he snatched his hand back. "The heat fry your brain or somethin'? People already hate my guts here, and you want me to be a whistleblower?" 

"No! I mean, if you make nice with Lommy or Hot Pie, maybe you can con-"

"Fuck's sake, Arry!" He shoved passed her, not that there wasn't plenty of room to walk around; however, he wanted to make his opinion quite clear. She ran to get ahead of him and held up her arms to stop him. He dodged her, but she was a persistent gnat that he wanted to swat away. 

"Please, Gendry! Just listen to me! Fine, you don't want to tell, that's fine. At least, stand up for yourself. Hit them back. You're bigger than some of those guys, especially Polliver. Show the others if they-"

He stopped, roughly taking hold of her shoulders. The teenager knew that he had the strength to hurt the girl if he wanted, but he wasn't that type of person. Sure, Gendry dealt with one or two people in his life, but he didn't make it a habit of dishing out pain like candy. When he realized how tight his grip was, he released her. "I don't want to make waves, you hear? I want to keep my head down and do my job. Survive. They'll grow tired of me and move onto their next target."

Arry stood there, rigid, as he yelled at her. She hiked up her chin. "You are a coward Gendry Waters."

The muscle in his chin ticked, and he exhaled through his nose. "Tough talk coming from daddy's little girl. You may have protection, but the rest of us don't. Find someone else to be your hero."

"There isn't anyone else," she stepped forward with fists at her side. "They won't stop, not until someone stands up to them. But, yeah, go ahead, dig a hole to bury your head in. Pretend that'll solve all your problems."

"Hey!" Gendry snapped, causing her to startle. He took a step forward to reclaim his space, leaning down until they were practically nose-to-nose. "You don't get to lecture me from your position as the manager's daughter."

" _Because_ I'm the manager's daughter, it's my responsibility-"

"You're thirteen years old! You're a kid!" 

"That doesn't even matter!" She threw her hands up in the air, only to bring them down swiftly as if she realized there was hardly any room between them. Arry shoved in index finger at his chest. It didn't hurt, but it didn't exactly feel great either. She jabbed him with it again until he leaned away. "And I didn't need _daddy's protection_ when I busted the jerk's nose, so don't tell me what I am incapable of!"

Gendry felt ready to scratch his face off at that point, gritting his teeth. He fisted both hands and brought them to his face, letting out a sound of aggravation. "How can someone so small be such a huge pain in my ass?"

"Natural talent," she snapped back, unapologetically. Talk about an unstoppable force and an immovable object. He realized they would get nowhere while arguing and dropped the whole thing. When he thought things couldn't possibly get worse, he heard the voice he dreaded most. 

"Well, well, well," Polliver taunted as he and several others approached them. "What do we have here, fellas? A bastard boy and his little lady." The group of boys stood just beyond with expressions twisted in amused sneers. "Look at the two of them, standin' there all cozy. Isn't that _t_ _oo sweet_?" He tilted his head with a mock pout. "Are we havin' a lovers' quarrel?"

“Go to one of the seven hells, asshole,” Gendry stepped toward them to block Arry from the group of boys. Part of him knew they wouldn’t hurt her, but it didn’t mean he liked them near her. And just like his shadow, she moved too. His elbow twitched to keep her beside him. At any point during the interaction, Gendry wanted the advantage to push her out of the way.

The group made loud antagonizing sounds, likely to amp up the energy between them. Polliver’s smile grew, making him look like a sadistic Cheshire Cat. He’d recently shaved his head again, which didn’t help his appearance in the slightest. “You like ‘em young, bastard? She the only piece of ass you can get ‘round here?”

“You’re such a disgusting pig!” Arry stepped out from behind his elbow and marched several paces towards the bald bully. Gendry cursed and yanked her back to her original spot. He glared down at her in warning to stick close. Not that she would ever listen to him after their earlier fight. Instead, he took hold of her upper arm and directed them away from the group. 

Polliver gestured for the other boys to spread out and block their path. Gendry wasn’t too thrilled with being semi-closed in like some caged animal. It wouldn’t have been awful if he had someone at his back to block attacks, but all he had was Arry. He didn’t know if he wanted to keep her close to his side or trust that she would watch his back. “Get out of our way,” he ordered. 

“Make us,” the leader smirked. The sly way in which he spoke to them set off the teenager’s internal alarms. Red flags popped up with each strand of hair on the black-haired boy’s neck. Polliver sought a fight intentionally, and who would back up whatever story he told Yoren than his buddies? They were outnumbered in every sense, he realized. Then, the asshole directed all of his attention to the girl. There was something vile and dark hidden just below the surface as he licked his bottom lip. Arry’s nails dug into Gendry’s arm. “Let’s make a deal, give us a go with your little lady, and you’re officially off the hook. She’s proven she can handle ‘em big,” he said suggestively. The group hooted and hollered. 

A flush spread from his neck and his nostrils flared. “You want to say that again?” They were goading him so he’d make a mistake. Rile him up just enough to throw the first punch. He knew it and still sized up Polliver. They were close enough to breathe each other’s air. All it would take was a swing, and his position in the troupe would be over. At that moment, Gendry didn’t give a rat’s ass. There was no doubt in his mind that the group would try something if they thought they could get away with it. Why wouldn’t they? None had offered the truth before, and none would. Carnival rules be damned. 

“And if I do?” Polliver’s breath was foul with a hint of alcohol, his teeth a nasty yellow. “Are you going to beg your girlfriend to beat the shit out of me?” Big words from a guy that got his nose broken by the same girl. He imagined getting hit by someone so small. She didn’t appear to be strong enough to pack a punch. A voice in the back of his head told him she could take care of herself. So, why throw away his spot in the carnival for her? 

Gendry struggled to reason that his issues with the bully were his own. Perhaps, they overlapped with the mistreatment of the girl behind him; however, they were _not_ because of the provocative way Polliver eyed her. “No, _I will_ beat the living shit out of you. Come on.” He rolled up his sleeves and enjoyed the way Polliver glanced at his forearms. As reluctant as he was to admit it, Arry was right. Technically speaking, he was physically bulky compared to a lot of them. While he was no godlike bodybuilder, the recent labor had added a layer of intimidation to his physique. 

His opponent weighed the options when the teenager refused to back down. The only thing he needed was for the ringleader to step away. The Baratheon smiled grimly. One more minute and— Arry stormed forward, squeezing in between the boys again. With both hands, she shoved Polliver. Gendry made a desperate grab for her. “Arry, don’t!” She shook him off. That brought a fresh wave of amusement. They laughed, some of them doubling over at the scene. 

He wanted to die and, most certainly, thought he would on the spot.

"Tough guy needs his lady's protection," one guy said as he leaned forward with arms around his stomach. "We're so scared!" The laughter grew louder and drew the attention of other employees around them. "Pussy," Polliver sneered. "Pussy needs a little girl to rescue him. You're so pathetic, bastard."

Shaking with rage and embarrassment, Gendry snatched a handful of Arry's t-shirt and yanked her back. "I can fight my own battles," he snapped through clenched teeth close to her ear. Her elbow came up and caught him in a soft spot. He grunted and hunched over from the sting. It did nothing to improve his mood or the remarks made in jest towards them. 

Just then, Yoren walked in their direction with the infamous bat in hand. He slapped it hard against his calloused palm. If that hadn't scared them, the murderous expression he wore did. The group froze, turning their gaze to the carnival owner only to quickly find their shoes much more entertaining. "What in seven hells is going on?" he bellowed, slapping the bat against his palm. "We all on a break here? Did we forget it's Saturday, and the show opens in less than an hour?" Yoren took that bat and began to swing, forcing them to scatter to the wind. "Get your lazy asses back to work, you lazy sons of whores!" At the last second, he grabbed hold of Gendry's arm and yanked it away from the back of Arry's shirt. The older man snarled, tucking the end of the bat just under the teenager's chin. "You'd better learn to fit in because you're running out of time."

“Yes, sir,” Gendry’s throat bobbed against the pressure of the bat as he swallowed hard. He had lifted his gaze when he felt the girl push away the object. His eyes squeezed shut, and another wave of embarrassment crashed into him. “Ar-“

“That’s not fair,” she protested in his defense. “It wasn’t his fault!” The teenager opened his eyes and met the molten look on Yoren’s face. She froze when the bat’s end forced her to lift her chin. The carnival owner leaned forward enough for even Gendry to feel the heat that emanated from him. 

“ _And you_ , Lady Snow, you stay out of business that doesn’t concern you. You will get somebody hurt. Understand?” The girl opened her mouth to protest but quickly snapped her lips together. “I don’t want to have to go to your father,” he threatened and dropped the bat against his thigh. Yoren stared back up at Gendry. “Don’t you got a job to do?” With that, the older man stalked away, looking for someone worthy to bloody up. 

When there was enough distance between them, Gendry swung Arry around and practically spat in her face. “Keep the hell away from me!”

Taken aback by his reaction, it took several long moments for the girl’s confusion to shift to anger. He recognized the tactic immediately, knowing that she was likely using it to hide any hurt. Still, her grey eyes glossed as she shoved against his chest. Gendry rooted his feet to the ground and didn’t budge. “I was trying to help! You should be grateful I-“

“Grateful?” He hovered above her, forcing Arry to look up from where she leveled with his chest. “Grateful? Don’t you get it? You don’t help. You make things worse for everyone around you.” 

“You’re just saying that because-“

The teenager broke her off again, refusing to give her any leverage in the argument. “I’m saying it because it’s true. No one enjoys having you around. We all tolerate you since we respect your dad.” To add insult to injury, Gendry knelt, like an adult would when they spoke to a child. “I would have won that fight had you not stuck your big nose-“

It was her turn to cut him off, shoving said nose up against his while on the tip of her toes. “He would have beat your ass, and you know it. You are nothing but a big, stupid, coward! Sorry for trying to help a friend!”

“We _are not_ friends. We were _never_ friends.” Tears sprang to the corner of Arry’s eyes. Gendry was no better than any other asshole here; however, he’d had enough. It was time for her to get that through her thick skull. “You are a dumb kid who can’t take a hint. I can’t make it any plainer than that. Stay the hell away from me.”

Something dangerous filled her eyes, turning the pretty steel color into an ominous storm on the horizon. The change made him think of the hurricane clouds just beyond the sea at Storm's End. It was a look that warned him to buckle down and prepare for the worst. "Make me," she challenged in a tone that made him hesitate. Was this the same look Polliver received right before she clocked him? 

But then he remembered she was no real threat. He was stronger than her and through with her shit. Gendry grabbed Arry by the waist and swung her scrawny body over her shoulder. The girl squealed, then began to shout. "What are you doing?" 

"I'm getting rid of you once and for all."

"Put me down!" She tried to kick, but he anchored her legs. "I said, put me down! I swear to all the gods, old and new, Gendry Waters!" He ignored her and started in the direction of the trailers. Arry pummeled his back with her fists, landing a few good blows that be begrudgingly respected. 

"Ow! Cut it out!" 

"Not until you put me down!" The latest punch hit his ribs, which made him mutter curse after curse. One nearly knocked the breath out of his lungs. He hated to think about the damage she could inflict if he freed her. 

"I asked you nicely, and you didn't listen. Now, I'm taking you where all babies belong... _with their daddies_." Arry made a sound of outrage, and a moment later, he felt her teeth sink into his back. She'd bit him! He couldn't believe it. "You are a spoiled brat!" Gendry smacked her on the bottom, hard. She howled. "Bite me again, you little shit, and I'll hit you again. Harder this time." He could tell by the way she tensed that she was thinking about it. She must have decided against it because he went unbitten. Though, she seemed to double her efforts to wiggle free.

Gendry pounded on the door to the trailer he knew belonged to Ed. The commotion had attracted more attention than he necessarily wanted, which he hoped worked in his favor. When the door started to open, the teenager stepped away and dumped the red-faced girl at her father's feet. She landed roughly on her ass at the bottom step, furious until she noticed the older gentleman above her. 

The assistant manager seemed to be the same age as Yoren, though no one knew for sure, given their vastly different appearances. He had the same intense grey eyes as Arry, though softer and wiser. The Baratheon caught the man staring at him every once in a while, and sometimes he swore he recognized a familiarity. Ed was more refined than a lot of the people in the carnival. If he shaved or cut his hair shorter, Gendry might even think he was above his station. 

"I don't understand," his gaze left Gendry's and drifted down to his daughter. She scrambled to her feet, wiping the bottom of her jeans. His perplexity molded into understanding. "Have you been bothering this boy?"

"No, dad-"

" _Yes, dad,"_ the teenager interrupted and met the girl's glare with one of his own. "She's been following me around, and today she nearly got me kicked out. Keep your brat away from me."

"I was only trying to help," Arry looked beseechingly at her father. "Really, dad, I didn't mean to make trouble."

The older man stepped aside on the stairs, clearly angry with her behavior. "Get inside, _now_." When she went to protest, he ordered her again. This time, she obeyed, but not before sending her father a petulant look. Once gone, Ed faced Gendry. "I apologize for her actions. She can be strongwilled."

"That's what you call it? I call it spoiled, selfish, and a hell of a lot more. Do us all a favor and keep her on a short leash from now on." He hadn't meant to snap at the manager like that, but he'd been on his last fuse. It was already mid-day, and he had yet to even start his tasks. The teenager didn't make it far before Ed called out to him. 

"Those boys, they gave you that shiner, didn't they?" Gendry got a distinct feeling that the other man knew more about the situation than he let on. Great, just what he needed. 

"It's no one's business."

Ed's lips lifted. "Arry always roots for the underdog. She can't stand to see other people being mistreated. I think it's because she's been the underdog so often."

"That's her problem. I don't need any help."

"I can see that," he responded with a nod. The way he stared at Gendry made him shift uncomfortable. It was like the man saw beyond the surface of his physical wounds. "There's nothing wrong with needing help." Why did he get the sense that they were having two different conversations?

"I don't need it," he reiterated with the tip of his chin. The action seemed to amuse the manager more than intimidate him. Gendry scowled as ferociously as he could as if daring the whole fucking world. Still, Ed did not budge. "I don't need anybody, especially _her_. Keep her away from me. I mean it." 

* * *

Gendry experienced three blissful days without his pesty little shadow. He still glanced over his shoulder or out into the distance to see if she was there. Every so often, he’d catch himself thinking on a previous conversation or imagining what they’d argue about while he worked. It was odd, and he couldn’t put his finger on why. On the fourth day, the teenager strapped a tool belt around his waist and set to work. A few rides became unstable during their stay in Sunspear, and the head mechanic was up there in age. Gendry volunteered to help with the minor fixes until the guy could train him later. 

He was in the process of welding a current project when a red material floated in his peripheral vision. No one ever paid attention to him, so he ignored the person until they refused to leave. The teenager put down the torch and hammer, then removed the mask above his head. Initially, it was difficult for him to imagine the so-called psychic wanting anything. Yet, she smiled and offered a cold handkerchief. Gendry cautiously took it and exchanged it for the old one around his neck. 

Melisandre, the name others refused to use out of fear, held onto the old sweaty material with one hand. With the other, she caressed the cooling metal. He thought to warn her of its heat, but the red woman did not seem bothered by it. "Fire is the purest thing in this world," she said quietly. His brows crinkled in confusion, unsure of which direction this conversation was going. "You are troubled." 

"Everybody's got troubles, lady." She glanced up through her long dark lashes at him. The Baratheon held his breath as she searched his face for whatever answers she needed. 

"We all must choose our paths in this life." Melisandre held his gaze, spouting off some nonsense like the quack she pretended to be. Her brow twitched, and for the sliver of a second, he swore she heard his thoughts. "No matter who we are, our choices are the same. We choose light, or we choose darkness." 

"Umm, okay?" He wanted to ask what that meant, but before he could do anything more, a commotion drew their eyes away from each other. Gendry followed her heated gaze and zoned in one Polliver. Great, just great. However, it wasn't the new guy they targeted today. In the middle of the semi-circle, stood a lithe blond boy. Normally, the teenager wouldn't have given it a second look, thankful they were picking on someone else for a change. A fuzzy sort of déjà vu had him focusing on the long ringlets of hair that reminded him of Loras. Even the shade of green from his outfit shook the Baratheon. 

The older boys were taunting and shoving at him, using a variety of slur words Gend knew too well. They were the same bigoted responses Robert and Stannis used when they referred to Renly or Loras in the past. The tips of his ears burned, and he heard the click of his jaw as he worked the muscles. "I do believe they call him Lommy," the red woman spoke with a tilt of her head. He felt her eyes on him again, burning a hole through his skull as his mind quickly worked out the options he had. "The little wolf is quite fond of him."

"Fuck," he exhaled and reached for something at his temporary station. His fingers grazed Melisandre's, jerking his head to see that she was handing him the large hammer he'd used earlier. Gendry thought of Robert, then, and nearly dropped the hammer out of spite. She reached for the portable torch and put it in his other hand. "Do _not_ tell Arry about this."

With that, Gendry marched over to the bullies with the hammer resting on his shoulder. He placed a finger on the torch's trigger in preparation. "Oh, you like picking on the little ones, do you?" Polliver paused mid-sentence, the _fa_ sound from his latest slur clung to his lips. There wasn't much time to think about his actions or the consequences should Yoren catch him. The teenager removed the hammer from his shoulder and lit the torch. Whatever the group meant to say or do stopped as their eyes found the flames. 

"I've been hammering for the last several days," he began and let the tips of the fire heat the flat end of the large hammer. "When I hit that steel, it sings." The hardened material of the hammer started to glow after a while, and he smirked. He removed his finger from the trigger and held the large tool much like Yoren did his bat before he swung it. Gendry directed it at Polliver. "You gonna sing when I hit you?" 


	4. Start Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arry is punished for her actions and Gendry steps up in leadership. Bridges are mended and a pack if formed. Ned needs to make decisions about the future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Given 2020 is one giant black hole, time, dates, etc has been difficult to track. Albert Einstein's theory of relativity comes to mind. Apologies for not being consistent with the chapter updates. This pandemic has also made a liar out of me since I got the urge to create a new Tumblr account ( **jjofalltrades** ). It mostly consists of fandom-related topics. I liked the idea of promoting more than just my stuff and being able to answer any asks. Hopefully, that will help with managing tasks for Wolf Hunt. 
> 
> In this chapter, you will get expansions on scenes you may be familiar with. It's almost like a director's cut where I've weaved some developmental pieces into the existing scenes to give it more depth. Chapters 5 and 6 will feature brand new scenes and brief introductions to some characters. 
> 
> As always, I'm thankful for kudos and comments. Let me know what you think!

Father grounded her for two weeks.

Following the disastrous scene with Gendry and her father, Ed entered the trailer with a calmer demeanor. She knew better than to think she was off the hook like all the other times. This time, she’d really done it. They sat across from each other at the kitchenette table, where she detailed everything up to Gendry’s confrontation. Initially, his decision to side with the teenage boy upset her. Until that day, her father always rallied behind her. Since he could no longer trust her, he forced Arry to shadow him during most of his shifts. When he didn’t put her to work under a watchful eye, she carried out her sentence stuck in their trailer. Ed gave strict orders that his daughter wasn’t even allowed to stick her head out the door. It took all of one day to acknowledge that many within the carnival tolerated the teenager over liking her.

Perhaps, that was a lesson in itself. 

Exile was a harsh punishment for her. Naturally, she was an active person who thrived when busy and distracted. Left to her own devices, Arry was an overthinker. Cycled thoughts plagued her mind until she considered the fact that she may just be an insufferable person. A _brat_. It was a hard pill to swallow and towards the end of her sentence, Arry thought about how she could do things differently. She didn’t want people to dislike her despite all the hot air she spat about not caring about anyone’s opinions. But how do you change into someone likable without compromising who you are?

Arry rubbed at her temples momentarily as she sat cross-legged on her father’s bed. A sketch pad on her knees. Today was the last of her grounding, and she opted to stay inside. The teenager went back and forth on two particular drawings. One was for Gendry, an apology of sorts since she wasn’t in the habit of admitting her wrongs aloud. The second was of an image she’d been obsessed with for as long as she could remember. A _direwolf_. She drew it as a mascot or sigil mostly and gradually moved on to something more realistic as her skills improved. Father, though he said nothing, disproved of her interest in art. She could always tell by the look on his face when he glimpsed her work. Yet, he indulged her with art supplies for her nameday; a luxury for the ever-frugal Ed Snow.

She moved the charcoal pencil across the page, adding depth to the spiked fur of the wolf. The image never ceased to bring on an odd reaction, yet she couldn't stop drawing it. Her heart thundered frantically against her chest, and she sucked in a deep breath. Still, her hands moved automatically to translate the wolf in her mind onto paper. Arry fought the panicked feeling in her stomach. A door in her mind creaked open, and for the slightest second, she swore she heard her name being called amongst the sound of children laughing. The pencil between her fingers transformed into a spoon, and someone shrieked opposite of her. A pair of strong hands-

"Arry?"

The teenager jumped at her father’s hand on her shoulder. Her jolted movement smudged the direwolf with the side of her hand. When she finally gazed up at the older man, she noticed he stood frozen. His eyes stared down at the ruined wolf. Self-conscious, Arry closed her sketch pad and tucked it under her pillow. Ed snapped out of whatever trance he was under and exhaled. “I’ve called you for the last ten minutes. Supper is about done.”

"I'm sorry," she repeated for the hundredth time since her exile. It was a reoccurring phrase lately and one she'd be glad to do away with soon. The spike of pain drilled its way into her temples and right behind her eyes. Arry ducked her head between her knees to fight nauseous twist in her gut. She pressed down hard on her temples with the palms of her hands and whimpered. 

"You haven't had one of your headaches in some time," he pondered with a rub to his bearded chin. When he left and returned with a pill and glass of water, Arry thought about an excuse to avoid taking it. She hated taking anything for her headaches. They made her feel loopy and tired afterward. Nevertheless, her father insisted, and she took it obediently. Together, they moved tot he kitchenette. While he prepared their plates, she set the table and made their drinks. It was a quiet meal until she risked disturbing the peace. This particular topic was often off the table, but after weeks on her own, Arry couldn't stop thinking about it. 

"Did my mother want me?" 

Ed choked on his latest bite of food and needed several moments to regain control. Shaken by the reaction, Arry pushed his glass of water closer and almost stood to pat him on the back. Her father raised his free hand and motioned her to sit down while he cleared his throat. The teenager folded into herself, moving the leftover piece of food on her plate around with a fork. She waited until it felt safe to speak again. "Is she dead, then?" Arry kept her head bowed to avoid the sad look on her father's face. "You never bring her or anyone else up. There aren't any pictures, and we just never talk about it."

"What's brought this on all of sudden?" 

"I don't know," she lied and propped her chin on her fist. Arry chewed on the side of her thumb, dropping all pretense of eating. The insecurities from earlier poked at her from the inside until she couldn't stand it any longer. "I just-I don't know." She bit down harder right before everything tumbled out. "Did she love me? Did she want me? Why isn't she here with us?" 

When an awkward silence fell between them, the brunette glanced over at her father. It broke her heart to see the way his features crumbled. His sad, soft grey eyes glazed over, and Arry watched him get lost through time. He stared right through her, beyond her, to a place where things were different. "She's dead," the teenager confirmed with absolute certainty. Arry cautiously placed her hand on top of his until he found his way back. 

"Yes," Ed nodded, numbly. He blinked and rotated his hand so that they could provide each other small comforts in the face of pain. "Yes, she's... _gone_." Her father's voice waivered, unable to say it aloud after all this time. After that, she dropped the subject and tried a different tactic. 

"Do you ever wonder what it'd be like to have a real family? To live in one place and not...would you like to settle down one day?"

He offered a regrettable smile and traced her knuckles with his thumb. "This isn't the life I wanted for you, the life _we_ wanted for you. It's not how we planned to-." Her father choked on the rest of what he meant to say. For the first time since she broached the topic, he answered honestly. There was none of that nomadic adventurer crap. She squeezed his hand, silently thanking him for being open with her. "When you're older, I'll tell you more. I'll tell you the truth."

Despite the confirmation of her mother's fate and the promise of truths to come, Arry's victory felt bittersweet. All she seemed to do lately was cause her father pain. While he never would say it aloud, the teenager questioned if he'd be better off without her. Bile rose in the back of her throat, and her stomach clenched. She squeezed his hand as a reflex, though he must have assumed it was for more comfort. Ed squeezed back, again, with a tight smile. Arry thought about excusing herself, but never got the words out before a knock disrupted. At first, neither moved from their place at the table. They stared at each other as if silently debating if they heard the knock at all. After a moment, the second set of insistent knocks echoed throughout the trailer.

"I think that's for you," she leaned forward to whisper. Her father's brows furrowed. "Well, no one wants to see me. Go on, I'll clear the table." Ed glanced at the steak knife, quickly averting his eyes when he caught Arry staring at him. He headed for the front, and she disposed of the leftover food in the trash. She palmed the knife her father eyed earlier underneath the stack of dishes. As awful as it was to imagine her father stabbing someone, he must have had a reason for his suspicion. Either way, Arry wanted to prepare for whatever was on the other side of the door.

She sat the dishes in the sink but stayed in position with a tight grip on the knife. Neither of them expected Gendry to climb into their trailer with an awkward determination. "We need to talk," he greeted Ed tautly. Her father peered over the boy's shoulder and saw something, then nodded.

"I'll call Yoren."

Curious, Arry peered through the closed blinds of the window above the sink. Huddled in the shadows were several members of the caravan. As if suddenly aware of each other, Arry and Gendry caught the other's gaze. She stepped away from the sink without a word, then followed his eyes down to the knife still in her hand. He raised a brow in her direction, and she shrugged. _Better safe than sorry_ , her eyes told him, and a flicker of amusement lightened his features. She dropped the utensil with the rest of the dishes, her lips rolling inward as she tried to think of what to say.

Gendry broke the moment by opening the door wider and inviting the others inside. The familiar mop of curls and the fresh bruise on Lommy's eye was all the evidence Arry needed to know what was happening. Surprise shifted to appreciation when she gazed back at the older boy who chose to stare anywhere but her. When Ed returned, he motioned for the others to gather inside while they waited for Yoren. 

"I uh-" both her father and Gendry jerked their heads in her direction. For her father, it appeared that he'd forgotten she was in the room. But it was the dark-haired teenager who seemed to be waiting for what she said next. She closed her mouth, then pointed her thumb behind her. "This-I-um-I'm going to the bedroom unless-unless you-uh-you...need me," Arry stumbled through. Who she intended to receive that offer was not something she wanted to ponder for too long. 

Ed dismissed her right away with a motion of his hand, but it was Gendry who kept eye contact. She backed away to the other end of the trailer, biting her bottom lip when she reached the bedroom. As she started to close the door, Arry worked up the courage to mouth " _thank you"_ to the teenager. Anything else would have spoiled the moment, and she knew he took a huge step forward tonight. She closed the door completely, then leaned against it for some time until the medication took its toll on her. 

* * *

Ned shut the bedroom door after tucking his daughter into bed. Try as she might, the medication eventually won over, and she passed out. He slumped onto the couch and slung an arm over his face. Tonight's turn of events exhausted him, but he could not fight the rush of pride. Robert's son had exceeded the Stark's expectation where his beloved friend failed. Without name, money, or power, the boy proved himself in the eyes of the caravan. A swell of pride bloomed for his daughter as well. Her instincts were sharp and validated the actions she took to direct the boy on the right path. Hope for the future rooted within Ned, small and malnourished, but there nonetheless. 

He thought back on the conversation with Arya at dinner. The topic of her mother caught him off guard, and he should have handled the situation better. As she got older, the simplistic nature of their lifestyle no longer put her at ease. The skills she learned among the vagabonds sniffed out lies and half-truths like blood to a predator. Arya knew something was amiss about their past, and she intended to uncover everything one piece at a time. If not for her morals, she likely would have had her answers by now. It made him feel like the worst father in the world. 

Roose Bolton survived the massacre in King's Landing. Allied with the Lannisters, it was a matter of time Westeros belonged to them. There would be nothing they didn't have their hands in and no haven for those who defied them. Untouchable. Ned feared the day their enemies located them. One day, they would come, and he would lose the last of his family. How many people will have to die before the country turned on them? 

The Targaryens and Starks on the brink of extinction, the Lannisters sought to destroy the Baratheons next. Robert, dead. Renly, dead. Stannis thought to undermine them, but his newfound religion did not make him a favorable political opponent. Though, it mattered little in their eyes. They would kill him, too. Few of Robert's bastards remained, not that they had any legal power to contest. Edric, perhaps, because of Renly's hindsight. Gendry was their best bet to overturn the current power players in the game. Unbeknownst, the boy slipped through the cracks of society and may outlive them all should he have the right guidance. 

Ned dropped his arm and pushed off of the couch. He ran the faucet until the water warmed, then plugged the sink. The dishes wouldn't wash themselves, and he never put off tasks for tomorrow when he could do them today. He did his best thinking while his hands were busy and mind idle. In Winterfell, the old wolf would have taken up his spot in the godswood to reflect on his problems. Were the weirwood trees still there? Did his people still worship the Old Gods alongside the new? What he wouldn't give to be _home_ again. They were the farthest they've ever been from the north. The distance lingered in the hollow space of Ned's heart, a phantom pain that wouldn't go away. It pulled and tugged at his very soul like a leash, beckoning him back to the place where he belonged. Even with her lack of memories, Arya's wolf blood cried out for Winterfell. He saw it in her sketches each time she drew a direwolf or a redheaded woman, a lone wolf pup in search of her pack. 

A single tear splashed against the back of his hand as he dried one of the plates. They could not stay among Yoren's people forever. His daughter deserved to settle down and have a normal life. She deserved to be safe. The image of his sister, Lyanna, flashed into the forefront of his mind. Ned clutched the silverware, folding the towel over them to lessen the possibility of injury. Lyanna was somewhere in Essos, the last he heard. She and the surviving Targaryan brood tucked out of reach from their enemies. Contact ended there for their safety, but as far as he knew, they lived peaceful lives. Arya could have a permanent home and a family. It wouldn't be the easiest plan to set in motion. The journey across the Narrow Sea was a difficult task; otherwise, they would have done it already. 

There was one person he knew he could trust without a shadow of a doubt. Beric Dondarrion, an old friend from a previous life, traded his money and status for religion. No one seemed to care about him after that, nor did the keep track of his movements. They could disguise and escort Arya to Essos. Once Ned knew she was out of danger, he could finally focus on their enemies. Tomorrow, he thought, he would sneak away from the carnival and get in contact with the other man.

* * *

Determined to make amends for her behavior, Arry set out the early the next morning. She made it to the mess tent in time to see Gendry exit, deep in conversation with Lommy. Neither appeared to have fresh wounds or skittish about the people around them. No scowl in place, she stared awestruck. Since he arrived, Gendry didn't care to blend into the crowd. Companionship was a good look for him, she thought. Heat rose to her cheeks, and a pang of jealousy rooted itself at the center. Once again, she was on the outside looking in, and no one cared enough to notice. She fought not to twist or wrinkle the paper rolled lightly between her hands. 

Before anyone noticed her, the teenager pivoted on her heels with her head hung low. Stupid, she thought. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Gendry wouldn't magically become her friend after he was able to get some of his own. He told her as much every time they spoke. Polliver and Dobber's words came back in a rush, taunting and degrading. _Horseface. Brat. Twit. Ugly. More boy than a girl._ Arry knew better than to pay any mind to what they said, yet she couldn't stop the idea that maybe there was truth to it all. Gendry had a few choice words for her the last time they fought. Angry or not, he meant them, and that stung. It was for the best if she didn't make a fool out of herself and leave him be. 

"That was how it was with my uncles. People's prejudices and insults are a reflection on them, not you," Gendry's voice moved the heat from her cheeks to the back of her neck as they got closer. She realized too late that she hadn't moved at all, and they were headed straight towards her. Unable to bear the humiliation, Arry kept her head low and tried to move out of view. Indecisive about which direction to choose from, she ended up plowing straight into a solid object. The momentum pushed her back, and her world tilted until a pair of hands latched onto her arms. "Whoa, there! Arry?"

Oh, gods. Oh, gods. Oh, gods. 

"Hey, hey, it's me. You okay?" She fidgeted in his grip, looking anywhere but at him. 

"Uh-huh," she flinched and wiggled away from him. 

"You dropped this," Lommy bent down to retrieve the paper and dusted off the sand and dirt. Arry snatched it, placing it behind her back and well out of sight with a mumbled thank-you. "I got to get to work. Stop by after lunch for those pair of boots. Oh, and-Arry? Hi, yeah. Some new swatches came in today. Why don't you stop by later and pick the patch for your overalls?"

She rolled her lips inward and nodded quickly, thinking of how to exit stage left properly this time. Instead, she decided to walk away without a word since Gendry probably preferred it that way. However, he reached out to touch her shoulder with a "hey," and her stomach flipped. "Wanted to apologize about some of the-" Arry shoved the paper at his chest until he cautiously took it. "Uh, okay."

He silently unrolled the paper but said nothing in return. She half-thought about snatching the drawing back and running away. Before she could chicken out again, everything fell out of her mouth in one breath. "I'm-really-sorry-about-the way-I-acted-it-was-dumb-and-you-didn't-need-a-stupid-kid-following-you-around-and-calling-you-a-coward-and-forcing-you-to-do-something-you-weren't-ready-to-do." She sucked in a deep breath, then let it exhale in a huff. 

Still, he said nothing. Arry risked a side-glance his direction and noticed how he studied the drawing intensely. After another moment passed, he glanced up with a pointed finger at the paper. "Am I the bull?" 

Dumbfounded by the fact that out of everything that happened in the last two minutes, he chose that as the first thing he said to her. Whatever anxiety she had about their conversation went directly out the window as he expression deadpanned. She snatched the paper, or attempted to, both of them now with a hold on either side of the drawing. Arry glared down at her artwork. In the picture, she'd drawn a handsome bull with his fists held back and towering over the ugliest group of toads she could manage. They cowered beneath him on the ground and appeared to be begging for mercy. "Of course you are, stupid!" 

His response was a bark of laughter that attracted several other carnival members. She gaped at him for a second before scowling, believing he was making fun of her. Arry attempted to take the drawing only for him to raise it well above both their heads. "Oh, no, this is mine now. No take-backs." He continued to laugh as she jumped, goading her with lowering the prized item just out of her reach. "Oh! You almost had it!"

"Jerk," she huffed and kicked his shin. The teenager yelped momentarily before another wave of laughter escaped. 

"Brat," which sounded more like an endearment than the last time he called her that. Arry's lips twitched in amusement before she shoved at his shoulder. "Seriously, though, a bull? You think I look like a bull?"

"Well, you are one of the most stubborn arses I've ever met, so," she shrugged, "not to mention the temper to boot. It is the name they've given you around here. Everyone's got one."

"Yeah?" Gendry stared back at the paper with a newfound wonder as he studied it. 

"Yeah, it was that or something about your big hammer, but I didn't get the reference. So we all decided on The Bull." 

The tips of his ears had gone a dangerous shade of red, the amusement clearly drained from his face. Arry didn't understand what the problem was and palmed his forehead. No fever or other signs of heatstroke. Maybe they should head for the medical tent. He smacked the hand away after the shock wore off, side-eyeing her. She pointed to the minuscule fly that buzzed above the bull's head. "That's me," Arry explained, clearing her throat. "Part of the apology."

Gendry nodded, accepting both apology and gift by folding up the drawing neatly. He pocketed it with a genuine smile. Not wanting to overstay her welcome and ruin the progress they made, Arry thumbed behind her with an excuse to leave. "See you around?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with a ruffle of the hair on top of her head. "See you around, kid."

* * *

Their friendship didn't just happen overnight. It was something that developed as the weeks progressed. Gendry noticed that Arry kept her distance and let him determine if they made contact or not. He begrudgingly appreciated her effort to give him space, and it made her more tolerable when they were around each other. After a while, Gendry also noticed that their time together was like clockwork. Arry stuck around only when necessary and then made an excuse to leave unless he asked her to stay.

The carnival's atmosphere changed drastically once Polliver's victims stepped forward with their statements. Ed persuaded Yoren to exile the bullies once they crossed out of Dorne. It was oddly refreshing to have someone in his corner again, allowing him to let his guard down to others. Without the toxicity, everyone relaxed and began to enjoy themselves. 

Room to spare, Gendry moved into a new trailer with Hot Pie, Lommy, and a few other guys. Arry hadn't lied about the nicknames members were given after their probation period was up. He made sure to apologize to the concession cook right off the bat, thanking his lucky stars that the larger boy wasn't one to hold grudges. No one was able to bribe Hot Pie's real name from him, vowing to take the heavily guarded secret to his grave. Gendry discovered that alongside his duties as costume designer assistant, Lommy provided people with an array of different clothing. They'd given him the "Greenhands" moniker due to consistently, perhaps permanently, covered in green dye. It came as no surprise to the older teenager when they told him Arry's nickname was a variety of "wolf girl" or "wolf pup" on account of her father being "The Quiet Wolf". Gendry just assumed it was due to the girl's misuse of her teeth. The piece of flesh she took a chunk out of three months ago was still tender when he thought about it. 

Between the four of them, they were quite the motley crew. By the time they made it to Old Town within The Reach, they were practically inseparable. Where there was one, the other three were not too far behind. Their bond strengthened further in the early autumn season when a pandemic swept through the carnival. Nothing short of a god's intervention stopped Yoren from opening the gates; yet, it came as a surprise when their fearless leader chose to keep everyone grounded for weeks. Those who were in good health worked overtime to provide for the sick. Once they were at half-capacity, Yoren decided on a soft-opening to keep the money flowing and cover costs. It was the single most excruciating week the group had ever experienced, and despite it the ups and downs, they managed to pull it off. The variety of skills and talent each possessed balanced out in the end, paired with their ability to work well together. The proficiency alone left their superiors amazed, leaving the managers little choice not to assign them the same shifts. 

Lunch was the easiest meal to share among the group since Arry spent breakfast and supper with her father. Though one meal a day was no longer enough for them and eventually the boys wandered over to their trailer in the mornings with Hot Pie helping Ed with breakfast. They spent the first half of the meal discussing their tasks awaiting them, and the second half joking around. On good nights, after the carnival closed down, they'd start a bonfire and gather around it. Camp-outs beneath the starry sky had to be one of Gendry's favorite activities, supervised, of course, by Ed. On those nights, they were able to roast snacks and coax tales out of the older man. It was the first of many times the teenager allowed himself to believe they were truly friends. It was the first time he felt like he belonged to a family. He was positive the others had similar notions. 

One of the unspoken rules they developed overtime was the lack of backstories. Every one of them had a past, and none too keen on sharing. It wasn't so much that they couldn't trust each other with their secrets, but some things just weren't worth digging up. Gendry respected that about them but also aware that it was a sore subject mainly for the father-daughter duo. Whatever it was, he was glad the pressure to ask about it was off the table. Each of them had spent their lives isolated or outcasted, a common ground they learned that strengthened their ties to the other three. Gendry grew protective over his friendship, unable to imagine going a day without them. Arry had jokingly referred to them as a pack, but he got the sense that she wasn't joking at all. A pack, he thought of often, sounded much closer to the truth than simply family. They were a pack. 

One day, it would make it all the harder to leave all this behind. 


	5. 5 Seconds of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Precious stolen moments between four friends enjoying the summer in The Reach. Ned and Gendry share a bond with new revelations about their connection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're changing things up a bit. Next chapter will be completely new with an alteration in the timeline.

**Highgarden - Summer 1989**

Monday morning, the group was assigned the costume trailer. Their orders were to toss out or donate many items to make room for new material. Highgarden proved to be one of their highest-paying gigs and enough sales not to bankrupt them during the re-supply. It was a simple enough task for the group who needed the break away from customers. The trailer was a mess, though. Since the manager of costume design quit, Lommy had the worst luck putting it all together on his own. The other helped when they could, of course, but none were as gifted. He ended up giving out small jobs, but otherwise did everything himself. There were times when he reminded Gendry of his uncle. 

The teenager thought a lot about his uncles since they arrived in the city. He calculated the distance between the fairgrounds and the Tyrell estate. Had Loras called or written while he was gone? Did his uncle know that he was missing? Did he care? It was the gut-wrenching uncertainty that kept him from making the trip or finding a payphone. At least this way, if Loras didn't care, he'd be none-the-wiser. Ignorance was bliss, so they say. Though, the thought made him consider contacting his other uncle, Stannis. Shireen deserved to know he was safe and taken care of, and he missed the sound of her voice. 

"Look what I found!" 

Everyone stopped what they were doing to follow the direction of Lommy's voice. No one had time to react before a flash of light blinded them. Gendry's head jerked back, blinking several times until the bright spots cleared his vision. Moments later, a polaroid slid out of the camera. The blond pulled the picture out, then shook it until things came into view. He threw his head back and cackled at whatever he saw. When they got a good look at the image, it was no wonder he reacted the way he did. They all had stupid expressions! That was one for the memories. 

Lommy ordered them to move in and pose for a group shot. He held out the camera as far as his scrawny arms would go. When neither Hot Pie or Gendry offered to help, he elbowed them both in the stomachs. Arry laughed at the huff and glanced over her shoulder at Gendry. They adjusted their positions so that he could hold the camera in place. He pinched Hot Pie in the arm and told him to snap the photo. Afterward, they eagerly awaited for the picture to develop, then agreed it was far better than the first. 

"It didn't come with anything extra. We'll need to make a trip to town," Lommy suggested with a shrug. He put the camera and pictures down on one of the vanities. 

Another box on one of the shelves held a variety of records, dusty from disuse. They uncovered a record player not long after and decided music might help speed things up while they worked. David Bowie won out due to Gendry's vote with the promise that Led Zeppelin be next. Though, Arry snuck in another vinyl from _The Labyrinth._ Her excuse being that it counted as David Bowie's turn, and it was from one of her favorite movies. Gendry made her promise one song and one song only. 

He should have said no to the idea entirely. 

The music meant to keep them working ended up being the reason they stopped. He should have known better, really. The second they started singing "Magic Dance" he knew they were in trouble. The dancing came next, along with pieces of costumes being throw together. Gendry lamented when Lommy took "the stage" on top of a stool in an atrocious wig and knee-high boots. He sang into one of the dusters, egging on the others to do the same. 

_"I saw my baby, crying hard as babe could cry. What could I do? My baby's love had gone and left my baby blue,"_ the blond wrapped a tattered blue boa around Hot Pie's neck. And just like that, it was like some freakishly coordinated dance number between the three of them. He scratched the top of his head, confused as hell about the scene. 

The mention of puppy dog tails got him a poke in the ass with the end of a broom, causing him to yelp and jump into their stupid little dance circle. Lommy commanded them from atop, singing as if he were the celebrity himself. They each took a turn wrapping the nasty boa around someone's neck. Gendry ducked, assuming he had gotten away, only to be ensnared by the blond from above. 

"I hate all of you," he muttered and tried to slap them away as they gathered him up in their weird dance again. Arry slapped him back, then placed her hands on his hips, gesturing for him to jump when the song called for it. He barely raised off his tiptoes in the misshaped conga line, praying to all Seven for the song to end. 

Once the song concluded, he sighed with relief. Only, Lommy decided on the brilliant idea of nose-diving into the "crowd". Gendry stretched his arms out at the last minute to catch his friend, cradling the other teenager bridal-style. He glowered at the blond until he received a kiss on the cheek. Arry caught the moment on camera, tucking the polaroid into the pocket of her overalls for safe-keeping. 

"My hero," Lommy sighed and lept out of his arms. 

* * *

Lommy slapped a poster on the table one morning during breakfast. They stilled as he slid in beside Gendry. He redirected the other teenager’s fork into his mouth, ultimately stealing the piece of waffle. Arry, centered at the trailer’s booth, reacted first. She screamed, the high-pitched scream rocketing her out of her seat. When her knees hit the table, everyone but Lommy scrambled to catch the items. The jug of juice splattered, the syrup tipped over onto the plate of fruit, and whatever contents in their glasses spilled onto their plates or hands. Ed waved her down, unable to contain the excitement of a teenage girl. Gendry grumbled about it being too early for that level of energy from someone. The eldest of the group passed around napkins to help clean up the mess. 

"We don't close the last night of their showing," Lommy began as he made his plate, indifferent to the glares he got from the guys. Not only did he choose to feed Arry's buzzing energy, but he refused to help with the mess he created. "It would be the _best_ send-off before we head further west." He licked the syrup from his fingers, smirking as Arry practically vibrated in her seat. That tidbit of information perked Hot Pie's attention. Lommy plucked a fork from Gendry's hand and added some toppings to his waffle. The black-haired boy stopped refilling his glass to scowl at him. He waved off the intimidation tactic. 

"From what I hear, those concerts get rowdy. I don't think I'm comfortable-" Ed paused when his daughter whined. Lommy and Hot Pie protested along with her, with the complaint that they couldn't leave her behind. The older man glanced at Gendry, who had quietly been fighting with the blond about whose fork he'd stolen and wanted back. When his secret message went ignored due to the bickering, he began again. "There will be drinking, and the crowds tend to be unsafe for-"

"It's Acorn Hall," Arry reasoned as if that explained away the whole thing. "I never get to go to their shows, and I won't be alone!" 

"They're playing on the outskirts of the carnival, sweetling. Surely, you can hear them from the safety of-"

"That doesn't count!" She bit her bottom lip, then brighten as an idea popped into her mind. "Gendry!" All eyes turned to him, who'd been oblivious to the conversation at hand. Why couldn't they have a simple, quiet, breakfast? "Gendry will be with us, and he's bigger than most folks. No one would even _think_ to mess with us."

Confused by being volunteered against his will, the teenager angled his head to read the poster. "Who is Acorn Hall?" 

Arry, Lommy, and Hot Pie dropped their forks and lamented about his ignorance. All three speaking over each other about a.) the greatest upcoming band in Westeros, b.) how he called himself a fan of rock, c.) his taste in music needed an upgrade. If he was having trouble with the conversation before, their combined efforts to talk at once did not improve the situation. He slid his gaze over to Ed, who raised his brow, and realized he'd missed more than one conversation. They had to have done this on purpose, knowing that he would be too tired to fuss. 

"It's decided, then, Gendry _must_ accompany us. His level of cool depends on this concert." The blond took a drink of the other teenager's juice, purposefully provoking the black-haired boy. Or distracting him. He tried to reclaim his glass, filling the unused one, then slamming it beside Lommy. No sooner had he possessed his glass did the blond steal a strawberry from the top of his waffle. Lommy beamed with a closed-lip smile, then tapped Gendry on the nose with his fork. 

"We can prop Arry on his shoulders. Safe as uh fiddle, that one," Hot Pie chimed in and picked up another waffle from the center plate. Ed looked at the empty plate in front of him and thought to protest, but simply propped his head on his hand. 

The brunette nestled between the two opened her mouth to argue about the implied short joke, then closed it. She cut half of Hot Pie's waffle and sat it on her father's plate. "I could see the stage better without getting too close!" Ed thanked her and sighed. Half was better than nothing at all and they had a long day ahead of them. 

"Do I get a say in any of this?" Gendry slapped Lommy's hand away from stealing anything more. 

" _No,_ " they collectively announced. 

Gendry vaguely remembered claiming that he wouldn't attend the concert at the end of the weekend. His friends made plans which included him, and, out of spite, he thought about not showing up. He hated the fact no one considered his opinion and automatically volunteered him to attend social settings. It wasn't that he hated people, but he hated people in general. After a shift of hard labor and customer service, Gendry wanted a bite to eat and decompress for the night. 

A cool shower to wash away the sweat and grime and some of Hot Pie's chicken-stuffed pies later, the teenager was in a better mood. He still thought about ditching the group for petty reasons; however, he remembered neither of the boys would protect Arry. She may have it in her head she could handle herself, but a grown man was different than Polliver. None of his friends were capable of a drunk crowd. 

Fuck. 

Gendry didn't know what pissed him off more, the fact that he convinced himself to show up or that none of them seemed surprised. He was the last to meet at the edge of the carnival, scowl in place, and a wet bandana tied around his neck. Lommy and Hot Pie each held a backpack open as Arry checked off the items inside. Blankets, in case they got cold (Gendry highly doubted they would in this heat), snacks, extra water bottles, glow sticks, and extra film for the camera. He made sure the other two carried the backpacks to the concert. If he had to carry Arry, then they could at least carry the supplies. 

Was it fair? No. Did he care? Also, no. 

The music wasn't awful, he decided, after a few songs. Acorn Hall was the type of band he might have discovered had Renly lived. The thought of his uncle was a dull, jagged blade to his heart. He swayed at the invasive emotion, clinging to Arry's legs wrapped around his shoulders. Out of instinct, she grabbed onto his hair to keep her balance, and the sting alone brought him back to the present. He patted her on a knee to let her know he was alright. A moment later, she smoothed the patches on his skull that hurt. 

When the band slowed things down a notch, Arry gave his back a reprieve. They fished out some snacks and their water bottles, entertaining Gendry with their dramatic dance moves or off-key singing. He still hated being near a crowd after a long day of work. The Reach wasn't half as bad as Dorne with the heat, but the energy of the crowd around them made things worse. Despite it all, the sight of his friends enjoying themselves was worth the hassle. It reminded him he wasn't alone in the world. 

Things got especially crazy when the lead singer took a seat on stage with a guitar. He sat at the edge and strummed a few chords, sending the crowd into a frenzy. His friends hurried to put their stuff away, placing the backpacks at Gendry's feet. What little space they had in the open, they used to dance. When the singer began, the whole crowd followed verse-by-verse. Hot Pie eventually got out the glow sticks, morphing them into crowns or necklaces for each of them. Gendry sighed, bending down so that Hot Pie could place one around his head. When he looked back up at the stage, the audience had lighters or glow sticks waving to the beat. A calm and charming ambiance settled over them all, allowing the black-haired boy to exhale. 

He watched Lommy and Hot Pie trade Arry off as a dance partner. She giggled as they sang and spun around with each other, making it impossible for Gendry not to smile in return. They tried to convince him to join, but after the third no, they knew not to push it. Strange, how they had no trouble dragging him along to these things but understood when he was at his limit. It almost made them enduring. Almost. 

For all the bravado about being one of the guys, he noticed that Arry enjoyed the little things. She loved to dress up, dance, sing, and put on a show that could make anyone smile. Distracted, he didn't catch the creep inch closer to their group until he had hands on her. The older drunk must have used the opportunity when she spun from one partner to the other. The stranger possibly meant no harm, but in no scenario would Gendry let him dance with Arry. 

"No," he chuckled darkly and applied pressure to the guy's wrist. The situation didn't need to get out of hand, and he had promised Ed he'd take care of things. Gendry twirled the drunk as if part of the dance and aimed in the direction of someone else. With his other hand, he spun Arry into his chest and held her there until he assessed anymore danger. 

"I can take care of myself, you know," she sounded annoyed. Oh, right. She never did play the role of a damsel. Well, tough luck. He glanced down and smirked at her half-ass attempt at being angry with him. 

"You could have," Gendry remained smug. He spun her away from him, then twirled her towards the end. Whatever argument she had for him died with the giggle on her lips. He brought her closer to him and dipped her, laughing at the sound of surprise she made. As her world turned upside-down, Arry waved at their friends. 

"Me next, me next!" Lommy cheered from the side. 

Hot Pie, on the other hand, gawked at them. "Where did ya learn a thing like that?" 

"I have my secrets," he righted his dance partner and wiggled his eyebrows at their friends. Oddly enough, when Gendry was able to pay attention to the band again, their dance was in sync with the lyrics. Arry could definitely be some maiden of a tree with her wild behavior. He spun her around as the song suggested, laughing with her as they continued to dance. 

"No featherbed for me," she sang while looking up at him with a sparkle of adoration in her eyes. 

* * *

The anniversary of Robert's death hit him harder than he cared to admit. He remembered more of what tabloids said of the politician and former prime minister than memories of his dad. Gendry recalled the unnecessary parties, the over-the-top photo ops, and the ungodly amount of journalists who liked shoving a recorder in his face. If he had to pinpoint the reason he hated crowds or people in general, he could name one for every finger on both hands. They all connected in some way to the people who invaded a child's personal space to look good in front of Robert. Just the thought of their hands and lips on him tainted the memory of his dad and made Gendry feel claustrophobic. 

With too much on his mind, the teenager was in one hell of a mood. Even his friends laid off after several snappy comments towards them. Which, in the end, put him further in a sour state because there wasn't a reason to take it out on them. By noon, someone replaced him at the roller coaster for an early lunch. He didn't argue and marched towards the mess tent, hoping one of Hot Pie's meals would work their magic. Instead, Ed Snow stopped him and motioned for the teenager to follow him. Respect or no, the manager was in for it once they were out of public view. He had no time to play whatever games Arry's dad had for him. To make his point, Gendry stomped up every step and nearly ripped the door off its rusty hinges. It slammed into the wall on the outside, echoing back in a sharp sound similar to a crack of thunder. Good, he thought and tightened his fists into tight balls. 

The smell alone upon entering the trailer stopped him dead in his tracks; instantly thrusting him back into a past long forgotten. He was a boy again, lured into the kitchen by the aroma of a home-cooked meal. His mother stood at the stove with her back to the doorway, humming. Her lovely blonde hair sat haphazardly in a messy bun on top of her head. She used her wrist to brush the loose strands out of her face, then started to call his name. When she turned and spotted him in the door, his name caught in her throat, and she offered a huge smile. She had the best smile, one that made others mimic in her presence. 

The skirt of her green dress with the bright yellow floral print swayed when she moved the plates to a small table. She always seemed happier when she wore it, which made the dress one of Gendry's favorites. When she approached him, he noticed a smudge of flour on her cheek. He laughed at how silly the spot looked on his mother and went to brush it off. Though, before he could, his father's voice broke through from behind. Large beefy arms wrapped around his middle, the sound of laughter vibrating like thunder against his back. 

_Robert used to be so strong._

_Gendry felt like he was on top of the world from his dad's shoulders._

Ed placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. The memory faded like smoke when a particular gust of wind rippled through it. He blinked, lungs burning, and his vision blurred. Gendry sucked in a gulp of air, filling his lungs with the oxygen he deprived them of during the lapse in reality. The older man stepped around him as much as he could in the cramped space. 

"Have a seat, boy," he pointed to Gendry's usual spot at the booth. "We have some matters to discuss." The teenager moved sluggishly and without question. 

On the plate presented in front of him was Robert's favorite comfort food. Other than a few differences from his mom's recipe, everything else was exactly how his dad liked it. Three medium-sized potato patties took up the most room, lightly fried like pancakes. Atop were thick slices of blood sausages, blackened and crisp on some parts due to exposure to an open flame. A golden cheese sauce drizzled generously over it all to enhance whatever herbs and spices Ed may have added to the other two. 

And while it may have been appetizing on some level, Gendry couldn't stop the comparison between his dad's favorite meal to his awful last appearance. The flush of his cheeks or his bloodshot eyes after one too many. The yellow tint to his skin after his liver began to fail. Gendry stared down at the plate, lost in thought again, wishing more than anything that the bad didn't outweigh the good. 

The older man slid a mug in his line of vision, distracting him from the darker side of his memories. The abundance of marshmallows was ridiculous as they crowded the top of the mug. Ed had sprinkled a layer of cinnamon on them for whatever reason. Something teased at the edges of the teenager's mind. Something that didn't seem important when it happened, but became gargantuan when the pieces slid into place. 

Once more, Gendry was that small boy in search of his mom. He didn't quite understand why they put her in a box or why they cried while she slept. No one would look at him directly or answer any of his questions. Not even his dad would pay him any attention. Someone ushered him to where his mom slept and told him to say goodbye. Gendry didn't like the stones they put over her eyes and wondered why no one took them off. How could his mom sleep with them on her face or with so many people watching her? 

He tucked his beloved stuffed stag in her arms, hoping it would help her feel better soon. Something felt off by how cold her skin was to the touch. No one offered a blanket when he suggested it. Did he say something wrong? They guided him back to the rest of his family, where the sea of black engulfed him. He slipped underneath his dad's coat, clutching the material of the older man's trousers. 

Gendry felt safe under the table closest to the stairs, hidden and secluded from all the people who invaded his home afterward. At one point, he grew hungry and thirsty from his hiding place. He wanted to poke his head out, grab something, and scurry back underneath. The grown-ups often chastised him if he tried to sneak a snack before dinner, though. When would all these sad people leave? When would his mom wake up and cook for dinner?

A pair of black shoes stopped at the edge of the table before the cloth lifted. Someone, a man, offered him a mug with marshmallows. Gendry took it with both of his small hands, then watched a plate of snack foods slid over to him. The man said nothing and let him be with a fuller stomach than before. 

"You're him," Gendry said and took the mug with both hands. He slid it closer to his side of the booth table. Neither said anything beyond that for a while. They ate in relative silence until he needed a drink to help wash down the meal. He took a cautionary sip, taken aback by the hard apple cider. The melted marshmallows and cinnamon fought off most of the bitterness. Gendry winced, then took another larger drink. Eventually, he exhaled and glanced up at Ed. "You were at Robert's funeral, too. Sobered me up before I made a fool of myself." 

"I promised him I would look after..." the older man paused as if catching himself from revealing too much. "Your father was a lot of things, but, in the end, he knew what mattered most." 

Gendry snorted with a roll of his eyes, pushing away his half-eaten meal. "Robert was a greedy, gluttonous son of a bitch. He didn't care about anyone else in life, why would he start on his deathbed?" Gendry licked his lips, choosing to take a drink to numb the pain. It's what his dad did, worked out wonderful for him, didn't it? 

"The viper's den will do that too anyone," Ed reasoned, allowing the teenager to seethe in his anger without judgment. He brought his own mug to his lips, then paused. "Or lion's den, in this case. Same thing when it comes to King's Landing." 

"Aren't you supposed to be spouting off some words of wisdom? Telling me everything will be alright? That there's a reason for everything? How great my father was or some shit? How I shouldn't be upset with him and cherish his memory?" 

His manager considered what he said, hummed, and leaned back to enjoy his drink. Gendry's leg bounced in anticipation, his fingers pressed into the mug's smooth surface. He was obviously ready to pick a fight, with Arry's dad a prime target. It did nothing to soothe the rush of adrenaline in his veins when Ed appeared relaxed and complacent. The silent stretch between them didn't help, either. 

"Robert was a hot-headed idiot," Ed shrugged one shoulder. His daughter did the same shit, too, when they fought. It left Gendry with no foot to stand on and pissed him off further. "Stubborn, spoiled, and one too many demons from our time at war. They haunted him up until the moment he died, I believe." 

Well, that explained how Ed knew Robert. He watched as the older man got up to refill their mugs. A small voice told Gendry not to have anymore after this one. They both still had shifts, and no one wanted to face Yoren's fucking baseball bat. When Ed sat back down, he raised his mug in the air. Gendry's brows scrunched together. 

"To Robert, may he never find whore or spirit in the afterlife."

The corner of his lips twitched and he fought every muscle to keep his sneer in place. He held up his mug and tapped it against the side of Ed's to complete the toast. "To Robert-fucking-Baratheon, the worst shit in the world." 

"Wouldn't say the worst shit," Ed commented with a thoughtful expression. Gendry raised a brow. "You live long enough, you meet plenty of shits to fill several categories. Let's hold off on giving Robert the winning title until you're, say...in your thirties?" 

They tapped their mugs again and drank, the hard cider cool and bitter. He about gagged on the taste, weirdly preferring the sweeter version. Robert likely would've told them to grow some balls and, probably, something about hair on their chest. Given his dad lacked great decision-making skills, Gendry figured it was another fuck-you to the guy. 

He slammed his mug down harder than necessary, confused by everything that transpired between them over lunch. The teenager came here to give his manager a piece of his mind. He meant to clock him a time or two if Ed allowed it. Beat the frustration out on way or another. What in the fuck happened? Next thing he knew, they'd be holding hands and smoking cigars. 

"How the hell am I supposed to be angry when you're agreeing with me?" 

The old man didn't flinch, nor did his temper surface. Ed downed the rest of the contents of his mug. "You're young," he sat the mug near his empty plate, "have your entire life to find other reasons to be angry." 

"Such a fuckin' prick," Gendry shook his head, the words holding none of the venom they were meant to. Just like Arry, he thought. Even when he had every right to be upset with her, he always ended up feeling like the bad guy. 

"Ah, you're learning," Ed chuckled and flicked the flying chunk of sausage thrown at his face. 

"Guess we need to get back," he glanced at the clock nearby. 

"That we do, but you'll be shadowing me for the rest of the week." 

Hackles raised once more, the teenager's nose scrunched up. He declined the offer. "I don't want special treatment. I'll make my own way and accept the consequences if I screw up." 

"This isn't up for debate. Yoren and I have discussed your placement within the carnival. Your training as an assistant manager starts today. It's time to learn how to manage multiple tasks, people, emergencies, etc. You'll need them one day as a Baratheon."

"Stannis took Storm's End. My cousin Shireen will be fitted to take over. I was never...that's not me."

"Mayhaps, but Shireen cannot carry the Baratheon name alone. Family is everything, my boy. The time will come when you need to step up. Since no one from your family can shoulder the responsibility of the task, I take it upon myself."

As one last attempt, the teenager rushed to find anything that might keep him from having to do this. "I lied to Yoren! I'm not eighteen, I'm sixteen. Like, just turned sixteen. I can't be some assistant manager. Not when there have been others much older and who've been here longer? Pick one of them."

"We're aware. Help me clean up, and we'll get to work." 

And that was the final word from Ed Snow. 

* * *

Management wasn't his strong suit, initially. He spent the last weeks in The Reach, building up more responsibilities, and trust. Not many people wanted to take orders from a teenager. It was one thing for him to be in the background, and something else entirely to lead. He didn't want to screw his chances, though. Gendry admitted as much to the gang and that he didn't want to disappoint Ed or Yoren. 

Arry was the first to encourage him. It came as no surprise given it was her dad's position he filled in. He later discovered she had guilted a lot of people into picking up the slack for his sake. For someone so tiny, she could be frightening. Nevertheless, she and the other two had his back. Their support meant the world to him. He told them as much, not in words, but in his own way. 

Every once in awhile, pride be damned, Gendry sought Ed out for advice. Together, they solved problems that didn't compromise who he was as a person. It also involved less language or violence. The pair had become exceptionally close lately. For the first time in forever, Gendry had a positive male role model to take advice from or vent. Ed and Yoren were the only other people, aside from his friends, whose opinions he cared about. They definitely did not give him special treatment, and, true to his word, he accepted the consequences when he screwed up. He learned and adapted, appreciating the effort put into him. It was one hell of a learning experience. 

As he gained confidence, fewer people bothered to complain about his new position. 

By nightfall one night, Gendry snuck onto the supply truck and laid down to rest his eyes. He used one of the stuffed bears behind his head, smiling at the thought that Arry must have _won_ it earlier that day. He unclipped the radio from his belt and set it next to his head. If anyone needed him, they could buzz him; otherwise, he was due for a nap. He folded one of his arms over his eyes, close to dozing off when he felt someone watching him. Gendry raised his arm and glanced towards the end of the truck, spotting Arry turning away. 

"Hey," he called after her. She turned with a small smile and food containers in both hands. 

"I didn't mean to disturb you. We didn't see you at mess tonight." She motioned to one container. 

"Ah, yea. Thanks." He sat up, dropping his legs off the edge of the truck. As if on cue, his stomach rumbled loud enough for the whole damn town to here. Arry chuckled and handed him the food. She sat the other container on the other side of her to prevent any accidents. They sat in comfortable silence, a bonus feature he appreciated throughout their friendship. As he ate, he caught himself looking over at her. Usually, he couldn't get her to shut up. Now, he wished she'd say something. Gendry ate a bite or two, then used his shoulder to bump against her side. Arry blinked, then looked over at him in confusion.

"What?" 

"Where's your bark, wolf girl?" The brunette rolled her eyes and lifted a middle finger in response. She propped her elbows on the back of the truck and gazed out at the crowd. 

Gendry gasped in faux shock. "Langauge, Snow!" They laughed in unison, another neat bonus the couple unlocked along the way. "Do you wave to your daddy like that?" He took a drink from his water bottle. 

"I don't know, depends on who's applying for the position," she smirked. 

Water and food residue spewed forward, some sprinkling Arry's arm. Her face twisted in disgust but merely swept away what landed on her. He coughed for several minutes, physically revolted by what just came out of her mouth. Gendry didn't know what upset him more, the actual words, or the suggestive way his mind twisted the image in his head. 

When he figured out how to breathe again, the black-haired boy turned towards her sharply. This time, he showed no signs of humor. The tips of his earns burned in embarrassment. "Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?" 

"Overheard one of the townie slags flirting with Cutjack," Arry confessed. "Why? Did I use it wrong?" She turned to lean against the truck with her arms crossed in front of her. 

"No." Seven Hells. All seven-fucking-hells. She was more worried about using the term incorrectly than... _fuck_ . Arry had no business talking like that. "No, but," he rubbed the back of his neck, sputtering about. Gendry was desperate to bleach his brain. "You can't-you don't. _Fuck_. Don't go 'round saying stuff like that, okay?"

He closed the container on his lap and placed it off to the side, unable to stomach anything after that. 

"Why?" She sounded offended, never one to like being told what she could or couldn't do. "You realize I'm a girl, right? Not much older than the townies. I don't see you telling anyone else they can't talk like that. I can say whatever the hell I feel like."

"No. You can't," Gendry reiterated and tossed his water bottle in a trashcan nearby. "Your brat is showing, by the way." He hadn't meant to snap the way he had and winced when Arry started to take off. He called after her. When had he gotten in the habit of doing that when it came to her? Anyone else would be gone, and he wouldn't care. She turned, none too pleased with him currently. Tough shit. "You're better than that. Ten times- _a hundred times_ \- better than those horny townies." 

Arry softened her glare but still didn't seem to forgive him for the authoritative attitude. "Don't look like you mind when they're talkin' like that to you," she countered. 

Gendry sighed and hopped off the truck, putting his hands on her shoulders. He struggled to keep his temper under control. It was his temper that needed to work on the most. The brunette always knew which buttons to push and when. Still, that was no excuse. "I don't give two shits about them. None of them are you."

He felt her deflate underneath his palms, then felt her tiny arms wrap around his middle. Gendry released a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. This was new. Different, but not awful or awkward. "When you're older-"

She tensed in his hold immediately, then shrugged out of his grip. _Shit_. Whatever progress he made with her flew out the window. Gendry reached out only to grab air. Arry snatched up the food container meant for Ed and stormed off. 


	6. Don't You Forget About Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arry and Ed are set to leave the carnival in two weeks, which creates a rift in the group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this chapter to the three most important goddesses in my life. Thank you for showing me the sincerest form of friendship. Your patience, support, inspiration, and love created a space where we could all thrive. I don't know how I've survived as long as I have without any of you by my side. 
> 
> And to those out there who feel insecure or unseen: Don't give up. People who genuinely love you and want you around are out there; your pack is out there. 
> 
> A good dose of angst, fluff, and comedy jammed into this chapter. Comments are always appreciated!

**Near The Westerland Border - Autumn** **1989**

Her father announced their annual plans to settle for the school year this morning. He held Arry back after breakfast this morning to speak with her alone. In previous years, she accepted the father-daughter duo's ritual on their own adventure for a time. However, this year was different. She had friends, _real friends_ , who would be left behind, which did not appeal to her. Now, when she thought about it, Arry listed all the holidays and birthdays she'd miss with them; events meant to be celebrated surrounded by loved ones. 

What if they forgot about her while she was away? What if they decided they were better off without her? What if something happened to one of them and she wasn't there? What if-

"You'll get wrinkles thinking so hard," Lommy said with a flick to her forehead. All thoughts of being cast away from her pack were ultimately shoved aside. The sting lingered as she rubbed at the red spot between her eyes. Arry retaliated by kicking the leg out from under his seat. 

"Jerk," she muttered and picked up her soda can. As she went to take a drink, Lommy kicked her in the hip from his position on the ground. The orange juice clashed with her black and white striped shirt. 

He rolled, then stood to pick up the fallen chair. Barely in his seat again, the brunette elbowed him in the gut. Lommy bent forward with a curt groan, the tips of his curls landing in the gravy on his plate. He grabbed his spork and flung mashed potatoes at her. "Lumpyhead." 

"Fungus," Arry used the back of her hand to wipe away the food from her face. Thus, the back-and-forth jabs and minor violence between the two. 

"Dork."

"Twinkle-toes."

"Twat."

"Cun-"

Their assaults halted with a smack to the back of their heads. Gendry muttered, " _enough_ ," from behind them. He gestured for them to make space, then sat his tray down in the middle. A chair from the table nearby was stolen without permission as he plopped down. "Hot Pie is never allowed to work a double shift again," he grumbled with a mouthful of his burger. "Breakfast was awful ~~—~~ _no offense to Ed_ ~~—~~ and now I have to put up with a tasteless lunch. This day couldn't get any worse." 

Both Lommy and Arry mumbled their agreements. She stared down at what was left of her food, most of it gone to waste. Not that she had much of an appetite. Deep in thought once more, she thought about all the boxed dinners and leftovers she'd have to get used to again. Her father worked extra shifts when he could save up enough for a nice-sized nest egg. She poked at her carrots. 

"What's up with you," Gendry nudged her. As much shit as he spat about her chattering, he sure liked to keep her talking. Arry followed his gaze to her untouched food, then shrugged. It was not something she wanted to talk about yet. Her eyes prickled, and heat rose to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

"Her birthday is coming up in two weeks," Lommy replied for her. He tossed the corn cob back on his plate, licking each finger of the butter and salt. If he noticed the brunette's glare, he ignored it. 

"Oh?" Gendry perked up and nudged her again with a grin. "That's not a bad thing. We'll get the day off. Go out on the town. It'll be fun."

"She won't be here," the blond tore into his bread with exaggerated nonchalance. Arry's frown deepened, and her head bent forward. Gendry squinted in Lommy's direction. "School year starts at the end of the month."

Arry shoved her tray with a rough jerk, unable to care what attention it brought to their table. She folded her arms across her chest with a huff. Anger was a much better emotion to focus on than the utter despair currently encompassing her. What she wanted to do was smash Lommy's face into his plate and tell him to keep his mouth shut. 

It took the black-haired boy a whole minute to register why school meant anything to them. When it did click, he twisted in the opposite direction of her for clarification. "Oh," was all he seemed to muster. Gods, he was the stupidest boy alive. _Oh_. Yeah, that was a real help. Stupid bullheaded boy. 

"Well, there's always winter break? Spring break?" 

"We don't see them until late spring or summer. Already tried to convince Ed about homeschooling or maybe hiring a tutor." Lommy dropped the half-eaten roll. "Some of us had to drop out, ya know? Wouldn't hurt any if we got something more than Arry's old school books." 

Gendry's brows rose, then turned back to Arry. Likely, with more stupid suggestions. She didn't want to hear it. "Doesn't matter, anyway," she whispered and stood. "I gotta go. Catch you guys later." The brunette was quick to put her tray away and head towards the exit. 

The last thing she saw over her shoulder was the pair of boys huddled close together. They didn't even look back or try to come after her. Arry sniffled and disappeared into the crowd. This was it. This was how she would lose her friends. 

* * *

"I'm sure it's not what it seems, sweetling."

Arry dramatically fell onto the sofa with a loud sigh. He tried to reason with her but to no avail. She wasn't stupid like the lot of them; she knew avoidance tactics. In the last week, one thing after another led the teenager to belive their friendship was unsalvagable. They had all but moved on without her. Each day this week, one or all three of those idiots skipped out on group meals. When she would walk up to them at any point during the day, they suddenly became mutes. 

Gods, the first time she vented to her father, he had gone to talk to them! The brunette wanted to die of embarrassment as each of them turned in her direction to stare! Arry shoved a pillow on top of her face to muffle screams of frustration. When the edge of the sofa sunk lower, she peeked out from behind the square piece. He sat there patiently, waiting for his daughter to calm down. 

"Don't you think you're overreacting, little wolf?"

"No!" Arry went to hide her face again, but he stopped her by taking the pillow away. She huffed, pouting up at him. "You don't get it. The whole atmosphere of our group has changed. It's them against me."

"Evidence."

With the count of each finger, she listed each item. "We don't share all of our meals. I'm never scheduled with any of them. When I do find them together, they suddenly stop talking. They lie or make up some stupid excuse to get away from me. Lommy won't let me into the costume trailer. Hot Pie can't even look me in the eye. Gendry...Gendry he-"

Concerned, Ed leaned more towards her with knitted brows. "Has Gendry done something inappropriate?" 

"He's..." Arry's entire face scrunched up in an effort to come up with a word close enough to describe Gendry's odd behavior. "He's... _sweet_. Polite, even."

Her father blinked. His mouth opened to respond, then shut. He did this many times before anything intelligible came out. "I don't...see...how that-uh-"

She sat up and snatched the pillow back, clutching it against her chest. "Gendry and I have a complicated relationship-"

"Relationship?"

"Friendship."

"But-"

"Gods, dad! You don't get it!"

"Clearly, I do not."

"We aren't sweet or polite with one another. Our friendship is based on a series of insults and complaints."

"I don't think that's how friendships...work?" 

"Ugh!" She threw her hands in the air. Adults really did not get how things worked sometimes. "The point is, something's up. They're cutting me out and acting stranger than usual."

Ed's lips thinned and he patted her on the knee. "It'll work itself out in the end, my love. Don't give up on them just yet."

* * *

_Little, whiny Arry can't even keep friends without her father's help._

The voice in her head had grown exponentially by Monday afternoon, tormented by what she might have done wrong to make the boys hate her so much. Arry was not someone who gave up quickly. Determined after the conversation with her father, she tried different things to fit in with the guys. Yet, she was always left with disappointment when nothing changed. Eventually, it became too much for the teenager. She stopped attending the group bonfire after the carnival closed. To make it less awkward, she feigned exhaustion with a brave face and pretended to head to bed. None of them ever questioned her excuses, and no one ever came to check on her. By the time the weekend arrived, she was ready to leave this place behind. 

_Why wasn't she good enough?_

That was the most prominent and oldest question to plague Arry for as long as she could remember. What annoyed everyone to the point where they stopped trying to be her friend? When she first met Gendry, he painted a vivid picture of what people saw when they looked at her. Over the last year, she worked to improve herself despite his apology. Didn't they notice her effort? 

_Why wasn't she good enough?_

  
Evening rolled around without a fight, thanks to her father's ever-growing checklist before they left the carnival. The trailer was empty, aside from the possessions they had yet to pack. Labeled boxes lined the walls, waiting to be transferred to the van on their last day. It might not have felt as final had her friends been there to help. Instead, Arry was left to organize and pack up her entire life alone. Without much else to do today, the brunette spent her time in the back bedroom with a sketchbook. Art never abandoned her. Her trusty sketchbook and pencils never made her feel less than worthy. When everyone else let her down, at least she had an outlet. 

Ed arrived home shortly before sunset with an early birthday present in tow. He suggested she shower and get ready for a dinner out on the town as a last hoorah. With the heat of summer fading, the blue blouse and jean vest combo wouldn't be unbearable. Arry thanked him with a hug and kiss to the cheek, then left to do just that. 

She was set to go until her father asked if she'd drop some shirts off at the costume trailer for mending. He could not be dense enough to think his daughter wanted to risk running into the guys. When she tried to protest, he left no room for arguments. Arry didn't argue further; however, she did ensure he got the point with a bit of an attitude. She shoved her feet into her canvas shoes with an irritated huff, then threw open the door with some flare. Was it fair to act like a brat? No. But neither was throwing his daughter to the traitors over some stupid shirts. 

The trailer was within sight when Rusty, one of the clowns favored by younger audience members, pulled her aside. He specialized in body paint and balloon art, who did the performers' makeup at the beginning of each shift and then painted customers in his free time. Arry normally wouldn't have minded, but she was in a rush. Rusty promised not to take long, nor would the design take up her whole face. True to his word, after ten painstakingly long minutes, the clown finished. Blue and black vines seemed to grow and curl out from the corner of her eyes. They spread out to her temples and just above the brows, framing her eyes to highlight the grey. On the ends of some of the vines were tiny red hearts that seemed to blossom. 

As she exited the tent, thanking Rusty for the new look, she bumped into his sister. Beth ignored the apology with a bubbly laugh and a stream of compliments on the paint. The rounds of her cheeks stretched with a smile. Arry caught the faint scent of sweet pea in the strands of Beth's long golden hair, and it made her sigh. A pinch of envy twisted in the brunette's gut. Would she look like a beautiful flower child when she grew up? 

"Here," the blonde said as if she could read the teenager's mind. She removed the crown of blue roses and placed it gently onto Arry's head.

"Oh, no, I coul-"

"Nonsense, it goes with your look." Beth continued to loosen and undo the tight braid in the back. She feathered out the damp strands, weaving them with the crown to keep it from slipping off. "There, a queen in the making." 

Rusty stepped out of the tent and stopped to stare at his sister's addition. He nodded his approval and followed Beth into a bow. Arry's cheeks heated at the attention, several others bowed their head as they passed by. She had almost forgotten about dropping her father's shirts off when Rusty handed them to her. They wished her a happy evening and went about their business. 

Other members of the carnival did the same, adding a trinket here and there. She could only imagine what she looked like by the time she arrived at the costume trailer. Melisandre was the last to stop Arry with some mumbo jumbo talk. The red witch fanned a deck of tarot cards and held them out to the teenager, requesting she choose one. 

"The Sun card," Melisandre cooed. "Good fortune and happiness await you, Arry Snow." 

"Uhh, thanks? I think?" 

The risk of bumping into one of the boys no longer felt like a daunting task. The trailer appeared dark and empty, a drastic comparison to previous months when the group filled it with laughter and music. Nevertheless, Arry's pain dulled thanks to the attention she received on her way there. She felt _seen_ by the people around her, and that was all anyone wanted in life, right? Maybe not the full spotlight treatment, but to be noticed and appreciated; to belong. No matter what happened with her friends, she knew she'd be okay in the end. 

Arry stumbled inside, the interior far darker than she ever remembered it. The light switch was here somewhere. Lommy was often the first one in and knew the place like the back of his hand. She stubbed her toe on a table leg, cursing. Eventually, she found the wall with her face, then caressed it until she found the switch. Arry had barely turned around with a party whistle in her ear, threw her off balance. Plastered to the wall like a frightened cat, heckles raised and claws out, she watched as the boys shouted, "SURPRISE!"

Streamers adorned every corner in the balloon-infested room. They continued to blow whistles and sing off-key to the stunned brunette, smiling like a bunch of idiots. Arry looked past them at the homemade banner pinned to the back wall. Someone must have turned on the record player because her favorite album began to play. They had cleaned the trailer enough to create a party room with a food table and dance floor. It must have taken them― _a week_.

Her bottom lip quivered, and instead of laughter, she wept. All of her self-doubt, anger, and loneliness flooded to the surface. Every awful thought echoed back at her, crueler than the one before it. How did the gods see fit to put three of the most wonderful people in her life when she'd behaved so nasty? Arry berated them to her father, all the while they were planning a namesday party? The tears came out harsher then, smearing the beautiful paint around her eyes. 

Cyndi Lauper's upbeat _Girls Just Wanna Have Fun_ in the background mocked them as they registered Arry's reaction. Humiliated, she buried her face into Ed's shirts, shoulders shaking from the power of her sobs. 

Hot Pie sat down his whistle with a deep frown. "Uh, guys, I think we broke her." 

Acting simultaneously, the three of them moved forward. No one said a word as Lommy took the shirts and guided her to a chair. Gendry knelt in front of her knees and reminded the brunette to breathe, taking her hands into his larger ones to hold. Hot Pie poured a cup of something, offering it up to drink. Lommy moved to the back, pulling strands of hair stuck to the sides of her face. Once she'd taken enough to drink, Hot Pie sat the cup down and used a napkin to blot the tears. They had done all of this work, and she had ruined it, much like the paint. 

"Told you something was up," Gendry hissed up at Lommy as he squeezed her fingers. "Hey," he said with another squeeze until she glanced at him through damp eyelashes and a sniffle. "It's okay, it's okay." 

"Yeah," Lommy said from behind, rubbing her shoulders. "Besides, the Queen of Love and Beauty cannot cry at her own party. It'll ruin the pic― _Oww!_ Fucker!"

Hot Pie pulled back his fist and gave Lommy a warning glare. "Don't go tellin' girls they ain't pretty." He leaned forward to dab at her nose, thankfully saving her from another gross fate. "Plen'y of cupcakes, Arry. Mum used to say chocolate does a' world of good that time of the-"

"AH!" Gendry and Lommy cried foul and shoved the larger boy away.

"But, if it is because of... you know what," Lommy's body convulsed, "there's a first aid kit with some, um, pain...killers." 

An unexpected laugh escaped from Arry, enjoying the fact the boys were about as embarrassed as she was in this situation. She held out a hand to Hot Pie and motioned for the napkin to dab at the rest of her face. 

"You mind telling us about what all that was?" Gendry didn't push for the information, the look on his face letting her know it was open for dismissal. She was sure none of them wanted to talk about feelings after such a waterwork show. They planned for a night of fun with good music and food. 

"It's stupid," she sniffled again. When she exhaled, she let go of the heavy weight inside her chest that she'd carried for far longer than a week. 

"Obviously, it's not." His thumb soothed any lingering anxiety and replaced it, instead, with a jittery feeling in the pit of her stomach. "You shouldn't be afraid to tell us what's going on."

"Yeah, you can tell us anything," Lommy pitched in. "Well, maybe not anything. A few exceptions th-"

"That we'll figure out when the time comes," Gendry quickly finished for the blonde. "Bridges to cross when we get there. Until then, you should feel safe enough to trust that we can handle it."

"We're pack, remember? Said so yourself," Hot Pie smiled. 

"Pack," she whispered. Arry took the time to look at each of them. None of them had run away or shut her out. They stood closer, offering support the only way they knew how. A new wave of embarrassment hit when she took in the scene once more. Arry glanced down at her lap, where Gendry's hands still held onto her. Steady, rooted, and provided protection against anything that might try to blow them all away. It was his eyes she focused on when she spoke. "I thought you didn't want to be my friend anymore. Because I'm leaving and won't be around for a while. That it'll be easier just to stop pretending..."

Cyndi Lauper continued to play in the background, filling the air when everyone went silent. Gendry was the first to process everything, mere seconds before the other two. "You're right, that is stupid," he said abruptly, tightening his hold on her hands so she couldn't smack him. 

"Oy!" Hot Pie smacked him upside the head in her stead. "Don't none of ya know how to speak to ladies?" 

The black-haired teenager gathered Arry's tiny wrists into one hand and pointed a finger up at the bigger boy. "You get one free hit. Do it again, and it's nuggies for a month." He directed his finger to Lommy. "If you got something to say, keep your mouth shut. I'm not finished." His finger finally landed in Arry's direction. "For someone always calling me stupid-"

"You _are_ stupid, stupid!" 

Gendry put a hand over her mouth, set on not causing a bruise despite the fact she was actively licking the palm of his hand to gross him out. "Let me finish, or I'll bend you over my knee and-"

"Uh, here," Lommy interrupted with a cookie in his hand. "Keep it domestic, Bull. One traumatic event at a time, yeah?" Gendry removed his hand and stuffed Arry's mouth with the cookie to preoccupy her until he was done. 

"This one takes the cake on stupid," he started again. "Do you think any of us would be where we are if it wasn't for you? Who do you think ties us together? Who kept teaming us up? If anyone here is indispensable―necessary; important," he paused to inform the other two. They nodded in agreement. "If anyone here is indispensable, Arry, it's you." Gendry dropped his hand, indicating he had made his point. 

The soft moment would have been one for the book; however, the cookie had dissolved over time, leaving her mouth dry. What she couldn't swallow, the mixture of crumbs and saliva, splattered across the older boy's face with a cough. He startled, squeezing both his mouth and eyes, knuckles white as he fisted both hands on her lap. Arry continued to hack up the cookie until Hot Pie presented a clean napkin and her cup. A second napkin was offered to Gendry. 

"Are you _serious_?" He snatched the napkin and wiped his face furiously. "I was trying to be nice!"

"You deserved it," Arry yelled back once she'd cleared the cookie's remains and shoved the cup back at Hot Pie. "What did you expect would happen when you shoved a cookie in my mouth without a drink?"

"It's not like you haven't stuffed your face before! Excuse me for thinking your big mouth could handle it!" 

The brunette gasped, smacking him in the chest. "You are such an arsehole!"

"Might as well be since you can't take a fucking compliment every once in a while!" 

Lommy rolled his eyes with a sigh, then stepped away from the quarreling couple. He popped open a pizza box and made a plate. Hot Pie joined him, glancing over his shoulder to observe the two before he whispered. "Shouldn't we stop 'em?" 

The blonde followed his gaze and shook his head. "They've returned to their natural habitat. The balance of our world is restored." He passed a plate to Hot Pie. 

"I hate it when mum an' dad fight." 

* * *

In the days following the party, the group crammed as much time together as humanly possible. But by the in of the week, they had accepted it wasn't enough; it would never be enough to lessen the hurt. Ed shut the van door and moved to the driver's seat. He gave the teenagers ten minutes to say what they needed before they headed out. She started with Lommy first, handing over the camera and the extra film. They had argued last night about who should take it, but Arry wouldn't need it. She wanted them to take pictures of the places they traveled, places she never got to see for herself. 

"This is the address to our postal box," she handed him a folded piece of paper. "Write to me when you can, and I'll send our home phone number when I can. Don't lose it, okay? I want lots of pictures of the autumn festivals." 

Lommy tucked the folded paper in one pocket and the film in the other. He hung the camera around his neck for good measure, then wrapped his arms around her. "Send us care packages, too. I can't take care of these idiots myself." They chuckled together, the urge to cry returned in full force, especially when she let go. 

Hot Pie was in tears, letting them fall freely as he lifted Arry in a tight bear hug. The physical pain almost made her forget about the ache in her chest. "I'll be back before you know it," Arry encouraged with one last hug. Behind her, Ed honked the horn in warning. The internal clock in her head  _ ticked, ticked, ticked _ down, reminding her that it was time to let go. 

Arry had done a magnificent job by holding it together this long. Though, she seemed to hesitate when it came down to her goodbye to Gendry. Unlike the others, the brunette didn't pull him into a tight hug or comfort him. He was uncomfortable with contact; she had learned over the summer. Unless Gendry initiated or expressed that it was okay, he didn't like it. She stubbornly held onto her composure, probably as tightly as he held his fists to his side. For a moment, staring up at him, Arry believed he might make the first move. When he didn't, she swallowed down any despair. 

"Give 'em hell," he teased and reached for her hand. She glanced down and felt the cool metal of a pocket knife as it touched her palm. Her fingers closed around the weapon and gazed back up at him. He didn't meet her eyes, still staring down at their hands. "Don't get caught with it, but if anyone..."

Whatever Gendry was thinking, it pained him to vocalize it. "Yeah," she finished for him and slipped the knife into the front pocket of her overalls. Ed honked a second time; the sound caused each of them to jolt. It wasn't enough, Arry repeated over and over in her head. It wasn't enough. She needed more time, one more minute, one more day. Tears threatened to expose her weakness in front of the boys again, and she'd be damned if she let that happen. 

Arry bit down on her lower lip, then turned on her heels to leave. She made it several steps towards the van when she glanced up and noticed her father staring at her from the window. His eyes shifted to something― _ someone _ ―and offered a curt nod. In one swift motion, the brunette whirled around and lept into her best friend's waiting arms. Out of pure instinct, he caught her and secured her to his chest. Arry clutched the back of his neck, shaking with grief. 

Stupid things like  _ safe, home,  _ and  _ pack _ rotated through her mind as she tried to memorize everything about the boy in her arms. Arry's tears stained his shoulder, which prompted him to rub her back, whispering his own reassurances. "Eight months, you can do it. Eyes on the prize. We'll all be together soon enough."

"What if you forget about me," her voice cracked. Gendry squeezed tighter, smoothing out the hairs that had wildly come out of her rubberband. 

He set her down after that, loosening his hold on her. She felt him press his lips to the top of her head. "That's not possible, wolf girl." 


	7. Wildflowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys must endure eight months without Arry as they travel throughout the Westerlands and King's Landing. When they are reunited in the spring, Gendry begins to suspect his best friend may mean more to him than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I'm just bullshitting this political system and hope it makes sense for the plot's sake. Just...go with it for me.

**Westerlands - Autumn 1989**

  
Gendry experienced his fair share of loss in life. There was nothing new to him about losing the people he cared about. He expected the absence of the Snows to warrant a similar emotion, though lighter in nature. He hadn't known them for too long, nor were they family. Spend enough time with people, and their sudden absence becomes glaringly apparent. It was all about the routine. Once you got past the notion of them being a part of that routine, it didn't feel awkward anymore. 

The first morning after the Snows left proved his theory. They walked into the trailer without knocking and filed in one by one. Hot Pie went to the stove to prepare the waffles and eggs; he reached for the batter bowl and swiped several times at thin air. Lommy moved to the coffee pot to pour himself his usual cup only to notice the carafe empty and his mug gone. Gendry sat at the table alone and stared at the space where the freshly picked wildflowers should be. 

_Oh._

It hit them one by one, their eyes locked with one another's as the dark, lifeless, musk of the interior sunk in. Everything that made the trailer a home was gone. Two of those things were the most essential parts of the home, the father-daughter duo he swore to himself wasn't so important in his life. "It's temporary, guys," Gendry said aloud. Though, who was he trying to convince more? "Eight months."

"Eight months," Lommy repeated with a slow nod. 

"Eight months," Hot Pie choked and dropped his arms as if he had slammed a skillet down on the stove. 

Two weeks later, the boys broke their awkward routine when they walked into the trailer unannounced to find the newest tenants. Neither Gendry nor Hot Pie knew what to do about the sight. They stood by the front door while Lommy made himself a cup of coffee. He spat the contents out across the counter and smashed the cup against the edge. The blond wasn't prone to violent outbursts after Polliver and his gang got kicked out, and this new side of him left a lot to be desired. He warned the couple they weren't welcomed at the carnival and shouldn't get comfortable in this trailer. 

All three got a lickin' from Yoren afterward, a swat to their backsides with his bat to make them fall in line. 

By the end of the month, Gendry thought they adjusted well enough to a new routine. That is, until one evening, he came home to Hot Pie weeping in front of a batch of sweet buns. Lommy raised his hands when Gendry turned to him in question. Their friend held two buns on top of his head, then bawled at the microwave reflection. It dawned on the others how the bread resembled Arry's hairstyle when she had to perform in front of a crowd. 

They gifted the batch to a neighbor and returned to the mess tent for all their meals. 

Gendry didn't change as much, at least he assumed. Without Ed around, Yoren needed an extra hand, and the teenager had experience in management thanks to his mentor. Despite the physical exhaustion, he did notice he tossed and turned more frequently at night. When he met Arry, she rattled on once about the difficulty in making friends. She was a social kind of girl and needed to be around people. What if they were mean to her? Did she have to use the pocket knife? How much time did she spend home alone? The world was a dangerous place, and it got worse every time he opened up a newspaper. What if something happened and no one was there to help? Arry promised she'd call or send a letter when they settled. When would that be? 

Westerlands celebrated one festival after another during their travels. Casterly Rock threw an annual harvest festival that honored one of the Seven; however, Gendry couldn't recall. He went out once with Lommy and Hot Pie on one of their days off. They drank several pints to lighten the mood before Lommy took out the camera and forced them to take pictures. His left arm hung stiffly where Arry should have stood in front of him. He put his hand in his front pocket, his fingers twitching at how wrong it felt to take a picture without her. 

Lommy bought a painting from a vendor and presented it to them near the pumpkin patch. Red Riding Hood sat atop a large wolf in some sort of runny paint technique. Gendry's lip twitched at the thought that Arry would know the name of the style and gush about brush strokes or the abstract something. The longer he stared at the painting, the more he saw their friend in it. 

"Should 'ave wildflowers," Hot Pot interrupted his thoughts from over Gendry's shoulder. 

"It's dead of winter, stupid. Why'd there be flowers?" Lommy smacked the other boy upside the head. 

"No, he's right." The tip of his finger caressed where the hooded figure's face should be. "She would have found flowers to pick."

"For fuck sake, the both of ya!" Lommy snatched the painting back. "Arry's not dead. Old man Snow does this every fuckin' year." He gazed down at the image, and Gendry thought he saw a shadow of something aside from anger. A moment later, he trashed the canvas and marched off to get another drink. 

Hot Pie quickly dug it out of the can and used his shirt's end to clean the bottom edge. "He don' mean to be...All we had was each other, ya know? We ain't used to..."

Gendry clasped Hot Pie's shoulder and squeezed. "I get it."

"Can we go home now? Ain't much fun 'round here."

_Home_. Did they consider their trailer home? It didn't have the same air of familiarity as the other trailer did. Though, he supposed, it was the best they could do until spring. Six more months, Gendry told himself. The city life would distract them throughout winter, and then they'd see the Snows again. 

"Yeah, let's go collect Lom before he starts another fight." 

* * *

**King's Landing - Winter 1989**

  
Autumn was Gendry's least favorite season in the year. He couldn't put his finger on why, but something about the different red and gold shades put a bitter taste in his mouth. When the caravan left the Westerlands, the teenager was glad they completed that part of the country. It wasn't until he stood underneath a lamppost on a Flea Bottom street that his distaste made sense. Gendry scowled at the flag that flapped gently against the breeze; House Lannister, the ruling family after his dad died. Supposedly, Tywin, his step-grandfather, took over as Prime Minister when Robert died.

The people, specifically the smallfolk, demanded a change in government officials. Term limits weren't exactly a huge deal until Aerys II Targaryen went mad and waged war with Westeros' other well-known houses. There was also that scandal with his son, but Gendry never paid attention to the details. He knew that Robert went to war and came back a hero, one the country called to sit in a position of power after liberating them.

Or so the stories go.

Gendry knew better than to believe that load of horseshit.

Now the Lannisters were in charge, and the people were hungry. If they pressured enough lords and ladies, they could turn the tide once more. Force term limits and frequent elections to keep others from becoming too powerful. It would certainly be a sight to see one day, Gendry mused. What he wouldn't give to shove his step-family out of their pretty little castle.

Lommy and Hot Pie followed his gaze up and made their feelings known about the flag. He wrapped an arm around each of their necks and squeezed. "What do you say, boys? Want to start a revolution?"

Ever the enthusiast, Hot Pie fisted the air. "Aye! Down with the pastry-archery!" 

Lommy and Gendry shared a look, shrugged, and went along with it. Neither had the heart to correct their friend, and at least he had the right spirit. 

"Down with the Lannisters!" The blond hollered, attracting the attention of a few people across the street: one, a patrol officer who paused to see what caused the commotion. Lommy ducked his head into the older teenager's chest and snickered. Gendry offered a forced smile and wave. They waited a moment longer until the officer walked around the corner and out of sight. 

"Fuck the Lannisters!" They started again, moving again. Every once in awhile, they'd get others to join them. 

"Let us eat bread!" Hot Pie shouted after another rowdy crowd of people began their slander against the ruling house. Gendry turned to rectify the phrase, but others echoed the sentiment like a war cry and ushered them into a tavern. 

Yoren found them several hours later when they hadn't shown up for their shifts, two sheets to the wind, and propped up beside a jukebox. He beat their asses with his baseball bat all the way back to the beach where they had set up the carnival. Their punishment was working the concession stands and then hard labor while hungover. It had been the worst forty-eight hours of their lives, but they had survived it together. 

* * *

**Riverlands - Spring 1990**

The last week of the spring season, the boys hopped into Yoren's van and headed out of King's Landing before the caravan. They got both a phone call and a letter from Arry earlier that announced the school year's end. She wanted to know what the carnival's path through the Riverlands was so they could reunite by next month. While Gendry shared the information with her via phone, he handed the letter to Lommy and pointed to a map inside the costume trailer. He got the carnival owner's approval and permission to borrow the van on the condition they helped the Snows get back on time for the new summer season. 

Acorn Hall looked further on the map than the actual drive itself. Lommy and Hot Pie buzzed in anticipation. Neither had left the carnival for more than a day since they settled with the company. It was a first for all three of them, being on the road independently with no responsibility. Halfway there, they stopped by a gas station to refuel and phoned Ed to let him know where they were. His old mentor instructed the boys to meet them at a camping ground not far from the town. Gendry thought it odd the Snows stayed there than at an apartment or motel room, but what did he know? 

By early evening, they parked the van next to Ed's vehicle and stared out the front window. Arry stood beyond the camp in an opening with the trees around them. The sun barely kissed the top of the trees behind her as she gathered flowers in the field. The sun's light cast an ethereal glow from where they sat in awe, turning her usually dull brown hair almost auburn. But what had surprised Gendry the most was the floral pattern dress she wore. He had never seen her in a dress before. 

"Who's that?" Lommy pointed ahead. 

"Arry," Gendry said automatically, unable to take his eyes from her. Wasn't it? Surely, she hadn't changed that much since they last saw her? 

"No, idiot, that one," the blond angled his head slightly to the left. To a boy. A pretty blond boy in a purple sweater. A pretty blond boy in a sweater that appeared to be about Arry's age. A pretty blond boy in a purple sweater that appeared to be about Arry's age, who was now approaching her in the field. He must have called her name because she turned towards him and smiled. She had never smiled like that with any of them. 

What the actual fuck was he seeing right now? 

"Uh," Hot Pie leaned forward from the back and tried to peel the older teenager's fingers from the steering wheel. "Best not break that. Yoren'll make us pay for that outta our wages, yeah?" He patted Gendry's knuckles and swiftly untangled his hands out of the other's grip. 

"Oh, he's pretty," Lommy whistled wistfully and sighed. 

Gendry turned sharply to the passenger's side; one part shocked that his friend said aloud what he'd just been thinking and three-parts betrayed. "He is _not_ that pretty," he scoffed, which had been the wrong thing to say at that exact moment. Gendry saw that now. The way Lommy's eyes lit up as he directed his gaze to the driver. His lips stretched slowly from one ear to the next in mischief. He was going to pay for that comment, he knew it, one way or another. 

"Uh. _Yeah_. He is," Lommy responded with an arched eyebrow. Instead of arguing or making a fool of himself, Gendry yanked his door open and bulldozed his way out of the van. He heard Hot Pie question what was wrong with Gendry. Lommy smirked, holding his gaze as he said, "mommy's been playing house with a new guy, and daddy just found out." 

His nose flared at the improper allegation, though he wasn't quite sure what upset him the most: that Arry had bonded with someone else or his reaction to seeing Arry with a new friend. She could have as many friends as she liked, he told himself. She was a friendly person. She thrived in social settings. Hadn't he worried over her not making friends at school? It was ridiculous. This whole thing was ridiculous, and he needed to check his attitude. He slammed the driver's door, wiping the smirk off his friend's face when the vehicle shook. 

Hot Pie shouted from within, "don't go breakin' that either!" 

Gendry scanned the camp area in search of his mentor. Where was Ed? Shouldn't he be watching after his daughter? Did he know some random boy was making her smile in a field of stupid wildflowers? They were out in the open; this place wasn't as secure as the carnival. Anything could happen, and no one would be the wiser. Did she have the pocket knife he gifted her before they left? Maybe she was hiding it within the bundle of flowers in both hands. The moment pretty boy with the purple sweater made a wrong move, she'd stab him. 

As the teenager got closer, the blond noticed him and angled his body like a shield. That made Gendry stop. He glanced down and saw that his hands were in tight fists. Did pretty boy think he needed to protect Arry? Gendry slowly opened his hands and looked up in time to see her annoyingly push the blond aside. She shoved the bouquet into pretty boy's chest to catch and placed her hands on her hips. The corner of Gendry's lips twitched at the stance, Arry's way of looking more assertive than meek. No matter the dress, his wolf girl hadn't changed one bit. 

And then she smiled at him in recognition. 

She smiled, and he realized that Arry hadn't smiled at Gendry like she did pretty boy because she had a different one just for him. He felt like the most important person in the world as they stared at one another, taking in the slight differences that eight months created. When she shouted his name, the tight squeeze in his chest released, and he exhaled. He opened his arms instinctively, and no sooner was she leaping in the air. 

_A lock and key._

What a stupid thought. But there was no other way to describe their embrace. For someone so small, she fit perfectly in his arms. He placed a hand at the base of her neck and an arm around her waist, securing her in place as he took it all in. Arry didn't protest, tucking her face into the crook of his neck and inhaling. 

"You smell like Funyuns and burnt coffee," she murmured into his skin, unaffected by the awful smell. 

Gendry belted out a thunderous laugh, the sound echoing off of the surrounding trees. Leave it to Arry to ruin a perfectly good reunion. Still, he couldn't remember laughing as much as he did right then since she'd been gone. "At least I don't smell like stale hot dog water and worms, m'lady," he squeezed tighter when she smacked his back. 

Their brief reunion was cut short by the sound of a camera's flash. They turned their heads towards the parking lot and saw Hot Pie clicking away, then lowering the camera to wave. Arry patted his shoulder, and he reluctantly let her down. Lommy reached for her next, whispering conspicuously to one another, then down at the dress and black combat boots. Hot Pie snapped a few more photos before he handed the camera to Lommy and lifted Arry into a bear hug. She giggled and kicked her feet profusely, then jumped out of the larger teenager's arms. 

Someone cleared their throat behind them; Gendry noticed the pretty boy in the purple sweater and scowled at the intrusion. Arry blushed and moved towards the blond, much to his dismay, and introduced the stranger as Ned Dayne. Ned Dayne, what kind of name was that? He shook their hands one by one as they presented themselves. Gendry was the last, though he stood the closest. He added more pressure to his shake and was pleased when the blond winced. 

"Dad should be back soon," Arry interrupted and raised a brow at him. "He and some of the others went to catch our supper for the night." Gendry released Ned's hand. 

"He left you out here alone?" 

"I'm not alone," she pointed her thumb over her shoulder. "Ned here is keeping me company. We were setting up for tonight." 

"He left you out here alone with a boy?" Gendry repeated, unsure as to why that point did not get across to her. Instead, she rolled her eyes. "Ned's harmless, and I can take care of myself." Arry pulled out the familiar pocket knife from her left boot. "See?"

It shouldn't have made him happy to see that she kept the weapon on her or that she had that much faith it would do any good out here by herself. "Still, I'm glad we came when we did. You never know, it's a dangerous world and all that stuff."

"...and all that stuff," Lommy said under his breath and stepped over to Ned to make small talk. 

"What are we having for supper?" Hot Pie chimed in. 

"Whatever they catch. Fish, rabbit, stag," she shrugged. 

"Have you two been out here this whole time," Gendry crossed his arms over his chest, barely glancing at the pretty boy by Lommy now. 

Arry laughed and punched his shoulder. "That's stupid, of course not." She motioned them to follow her to the clearing where he saw tents and other gear for multiple people. "It's a sort of celebration since we passed our exams. Camping out for a few days before we head back to the carnival."

"We?" 

"Arry and I attended the same school," Ned responded, pausing his conversation with Lommy. "Ed and Uncle Beric are old friends. They thought it would be a good idea for Arry to have someone familiar to hang out with this year." 

"What he means is I got a babysitter, so I'd make less trouble." The couple chuckled at some sort of inside joke Gendry did not get. He looked between the two, and his scowl deepened. Seriously, what was Ed thinking? 

"Ed thought it was okay for you to _hang out_ with a boy... _alone_?"

"I hang out with you lot all the time. What's the difference?"

There was a huge difference, he thought. For one, Lommy wasn't interested in girls. Hot Pie wasn't interested in anything outside of baking and cooking. They respected and knew better than to make any inappropriate moves towards Arry. Not to mention she was-

A pair of fingers snapped in front of his face. He blinked and then pushed his friend's hand out of the way. She huffed and shook her head. "You need a nap," Arry pointed to the tents. 

"Oh, I call the blue one," Hot Pie said and headed that way. 

Lommy and Ned mentioned they'd go fetch more wood for tonight's fire, leaving Arry and Gendry by themselves. "What? You want me to tuck you in? I said go," she pointed to the green tent. "You're obviously tired." 

"I'm not leaving you out here alone."

"I said I can handle myself," she argued and then took his hand. "Come on, I'll sit with you until you nod off. Would that make you feel better, Bull?" 

"Maybe it would!" Gendry's voice rose as he marched behind her. "At least I'd know you were safe and alive when Ed returns."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Great!"

"Awesome!" 

"You first, you big baby," Arry shoved him inside and then crawled in after. 

* * *

The spot beside him was empty and cold. Gendry patted the sleeping bag groggily until the logical part of his brain asked what he was looking for in the tent. His head popped up, and he blinked. It was darker than before, and there were more voices from outside. He immediately thought of Arry, his hand going back to the sleeping bag's side where he last saw her. Heart in his throat, he carefully eased his way to the tent's entrance and slowly unzipped. 

A medium-sized bonfire blazed in the center of where a line of tents circled it. The smell of smoked meats and seasoned vegetables sparked a new sense of awareness, followed by the rumble of Gendry's stomach. Several men chatted among themselves in smaller groups, though he couldn't identify any of them. Eventually, he did locate Arry next to Ed and another man who faced away from him. Neither of them appeared afraid, which allowed Gendry to exhale once again. 

"Evenin', sleepyhead," Hot Pie greeted as he stirred with a wooden spoon. The contents of the bowl were thick, not that the boy strained against the tension. 

"How long have I been out," Gendry questioned as he crawled out of the tent and pulled on his boots. "And how did you wake up before me?" 

"They were burnin' the fish," his friend grumbled and shook his head. "Told 'em to step away from the food, else we'd be eatin' charcoal."

He heard his name from across the campsite and looked up to see Ed waving him over. Gendry tapped Hot Pie's shoulder to dismiss him and met the older Snow halfway. Their greeting started as a firm handshake, but then Ed pulled him in for a hug. It wasn't as strong as Robert's, and not as soft as Renly's, he noted. But it felt like home nonetheless. This was what a father's hug should be; welcoming and safe. The weight of the world Gendry held for the last eight months melted off his shoulders. 

"Hey, old man," the teenager responded. Ed's laughter vibrated from his chest and down to his arms, where he squeezed Gendry. Again, the Baratheon couldn't help but compare the action to the only two men he shared similar experiences with in his life. Robert's laughter shook everything in proximity, like a small aftershock. Renly's was softer and blanketed his surroundings like a cozy quilt. Ed's laugh, though, moved through the teenager, gluing the cracks back together. 

"It's good to see you, son," he released Gendry with a solid pat on the back and guided him over to the group he stood with earlier. 

"I knew you needed a nap,' Arry teased and handed him a glass bottle of cream soda. He took a long pull of the drink, then gave it back to his friend. After getting his bearings, Gendry felt like he could socialize on a basic level. He'd stick beside Arry and let her do most of the talking since that's usually how they worked. If something needed to be said, she'd guide him to the perfect response, so it looked like he gave a damn. In return, he kept the creeps away or provided an excuse to leave. 

"Want to introduce you to someone," Ed stated just as Gendry was about to walk over to Arry. 

Great, introductions. His mentor directed him towards a disheveled raggedy man with a fucking patch over his eye. The red of his poorly cut hair glowed against the flames in the background and reminded Gendry of some living dead film. This man had been through the wringer. If anyone could represent a year's mood, this pitiful fool was the face of 1990. The teenager's eyes wandered over the various shadows and scars. It wasn't easy to maintain eye contact when the man only had one eye. Fuck, he was an asshole. 

"Beric Dondarrion," the ragged redhead held out a hand. Gendry knew his manners, for the most part, and went to take the stranger's hand. Except, there was something about the name that felt vaguely familiar. Pretty boy mentioned his uncle by the same name, but the surname is what rolled around in Gendry's head. 

Dondarrion. Dondarrion. Beric. Beric Dondarrion. Lightning. Purple. Purple Lightning. Dondarrion. Beric. Beric Dondarrion of _Blackhaven_ . Beric Dondarrion of Blackhaven in the _Stormlands_. A loyalist to House Baratheon. Someone who knew Robert, who probably knew his uncles...who knew him. 

"Oh, fuck me," Gendry said aloud, unbeknownst until he heard Arry shriek his name. Still, he disassociated for what felt like an eternity as his mind processed everything. The teenager twisted to Ed, eyes wide. What in all seven hells as that man doing here? Why did his mentor think this was a good idea? 

Beric was the first to break the silence. Gendry watched as he put a hand on Arry's shoulder. He wanted to rip it off of her, unable to deny that he wanted no one close to his old life to touch her, infect her, get her caught up in the dangerous game of thrones. "Tis alright, my lady. We're all friends, no harm done," the older man said as he glanced back at the black-haired teen. 

"We go way back, to simpler times," Ed reasoned, probably sensing the younger man's anxiety. Snow leaned towards him. "Beric's a friend, an inside man. You can trust-" Gendry shrugged his mentor off.

"Oye," another weathered man got their attention, "we're missin' a few things for tonight. Thinkin' of headin' into town." Beric broke eye contact and nodded towards the newest stranger. "Hey, he looks burly enough. What ar' they feedin' ya at Yoren's these days?" 

"None of your fucking business," Gendry sneered. It only made the new stranger roar with laughter, which annoyed the teenager more. 

"Name's Anguy, ya ridin' with us?" 

"I don't give a shit and no."

"Yes, he is," Ed spoke for him in an authoritative tone, one he had not witnessed since they met. Gendry's brows knitted together as he dismissed Arry. She frowned, holding his pleading gaze not to leave him alone. Her father dismissed her again and this time she backed away mouthing an apology. The oldest Snow took him by the shoulder, something Robert used to do when he got into trouble and guided him to the parking lot. He sensed disappointment from his mentor and tensed. What was Ed up to and why was he acting like this? "Just listen to what they have to say."

He was shoved inside the backseat of a car. Before he could protest, Ed shut the door in his face. The sound alone hurt, but he'd be damned if any of them saw that look. The door on the other side opened and Beric slipped in the backseat with him. Gendry went to get out and found the doors locked. "We need to talk, Lord Baratheon."

"I'm no lord," the teenager gritted his teeth as the car drove out of the parking lot. Stannis wouldn't offer a copper coin for his ransom; he was about to tell them that much when Beric responded.

  
"No, not quite, I suppose." The redhead lit a cigarette, the flame's brief light emphasized shadows along the man's face that made him almost seem otherworldly. "But you're gonna need to be before all this is over." Beric took a drag of the cigarette and cracked his window to let the smoke filter out. "How much do you know about how Robert and Renly died?"

* * *

Ned. Dayne. 

Upon returning with the supplies for tonight's bonfire, he spotted the pretty boy in the purple sweater near Arry around the fire. He dropped the bags carelessly on top of the table where the food and drinks spread out. Not only had this guy _sat in his spot_ beside _his best friend_ , but dared to put _a hand on her knee_. The blond said something, and the group erupted into a fit of laughter. Something inside him coiled at the scene. 

He was gone for no more than an hour, and no one seemed to notice. Would they have cared if he disappeared altogether? How long would it take for them to wonder where he went? It took him months to build a solid connection with the group, and yet, this stranger waltzes in effortlessly and makes himself at home. This didn't seem fair. Gendry owned nothing tangible from his previous life. Even before he ran away, things that were supposed to be his slipped through his fingers, taken and held hostage by an uncle who hated the sight of him. And now, someone else had come into the picture and threatened to replace his position in the group. 

Oh, no. This was not going to continue. 

Gendry stole four bottles of root beer from the cooler at the protest of someone nameless asshole; he didn't give a damn to remember who's who at this point. Hot Pie spotted him first— _good ole, Hot Pie_. The dark-haired teenager mimicked his friend's smile and rolled the stiffness out of his shoulders. The others turned in his direction and greeted him as they had in the past, soothing the burn of jealousy in his stomach. He handed them each a bottle, then ducked behind Ned Dayne. "Hey, think your uncle wants to see you," Gendry nudged his head to where the men stood around near the food. 

Ned leaned over to see beyond the teenager's larger frame and nodded. When he stood, Gendry crawled over the log immediately and took his rightful place. Ah, much better. He cracked open his bottle and stretched his legs out in front of him. Lommy elbowed him on the left, raising an eyebrow. Gendry shrugged, grinning, and wrapping an arm around Arry's shoulder to bring her closer. She didn't argue, clearly happy to see that he wasn't as grumpy as he was earlier. He ruffled up her hair, then dove into what school was like this year. 

When it came time for them to leave, Lommy and Hot Pie jumped into Ed's vehicle for a ride back to the carnival. Arry slid into the passenger's seat of Gendry's borrowed van. She turned the radio to the rock station and stole the sunglasses from his head. 

"Let's go home, Bull."

"As m'lady commands," he shifted the gear and left the campsite behind. 


	8. The Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Ned-centric chapter where the ghosts of his pasts come to haunt him. After receiving some disturbing news, he is forced to push his plans ahead of time. 
> 
> Arry starts to piece together secrets that don't want to remain hidden.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll be moving the plot right along after this chapter. Should be able to post more frequently since I don't plan to add any extra scenes. Then again, who knows? 
> 
> Yes, this is a Ned-centric chapter, but we do get sprinkles of Gendrya and their blossoming crush on each other. Not that they'll admit it. 
> 
> Let me know what you think! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!

**Riverlands - Summer 1990**

By the end of the summer, Arya would be safely tucked away in Essos with his sister, Lyanna. 

Beric agreed to travel east and meet Ed within the Vale when the arrangements were made. They planted several false trails over the last year to throw off anyone who might track them. Once it was safe, his old friend would take Arya to the coast and then across the Narrow Sea. The troublesome part of their plan was, in part, separating from his daughter; however, if he didn't, and they were caught, their enemies would use her to bend his will. No, he had to cross into the north, beyond the Wall, where the Westeros government had no jurisdiction. 

His brother, Benjen, lived beyond the Wall. While neither were as close as they used to be after the war, Ed prayed their blood relation was enough to aid his cause. With Arya safe, the Quiet Wolf could begin what he started years ago. Allies were few in numbers, but he reasoned that they could squash the corruption for good with the right support from some of the houses and common folk.

Until then, he had to wait for the pieces to fall into place.

Four sets of mugs lined a thick wicker tray on the kitchenette counter. The couple, who occupied the trailer while they were gone, gladly moved into a renovated RV. The boys paid for the repairs out of pocket as an apology for some incident last autumn. Ed's lips twitched, pleased with the men they were becoming. Once, they were angry, defensive, boys who only looked out for themselves. Now, they were a family who had each other's backs. They were good boys, some of the few he trusted around Arya. 

Pack, his daughter claimed. Even without the memory of the past, she clung to the same familiar structure ripped away from them. Desperate for stability, she built a home and a family of her own, brick by brick. It hurt the older wolf to watch Arya around those who should have been siblings, brothers. Yet, a sense of peace soothed the ache in his heart. He forgot the joy of laughter and squabbles around the table, the pride when one of them turned to see if he were watching, the security in numbers when the floor gave way underneath their feet. His daughter inquired about roots some time ago, and it appeared she had done just that for them. She had made them a home.

An extra cinnamon stick was added to Lommy's mug. Upon their return, the skinny blond boy declared it as such and went as far as to put his name on it. Hot Pie followed suit, and by the end of the first week, all four sat at the table and decorated their claimed mugs. Each mug reflected its owner, tugging the corner of Ed's lips higher. He dropped extra marshmallows into the baker boy's cup, just as he'd shown Ed how he liked it. It took no time at all to acclimate with one another's preferences and routines, becoming natural for them. 

The scent of cinnamon apple cider filled the trailer's interior, a friendly alternative to the stale cleaning products they used to get rid of the cigarette smoke the previous tenets left behind. His nose wrinkled at the phantom smell, curious if he could persuade Hot Pie into making cookies this week. If the costume department was slow, mayhaps, Lommy could sew some new curtains. Spruce up the place and add fresh flowers to the vase on the table. Make it feel more welcoming, give their home a personality the way they did their mugs.

Ed took hold of the tray's handles when he felt it. A phantom hand on his shoulder and the hum of his wife's voice. He reached over to place his hand on top of hers. Sweet Sansa in the background, humming in unison to their favorite song. The pair of them worked together to decorate each room in the manor as summer faded. They never failed to liven up the mansion with small touches to usher in the new season. Though a direct copy of her mother, their eldest daughter had a tendency to dance and sing her way from room to room. Every once in a while, Cat—ever reserved—joined Sansa in a song when she believed no one was watching.

Something akin to a whimper shuddered past Ed's lips, the barest touch of his fingers concealed the noise. He had forgotten again, if only for a moment, and a wave of guilt washed over him. Shame blossomed in his chest and expressed itself in the gloss of his dim grey eyes. The old wolf gripped the edge of the counter and ducked his head, unable to look at the tray of drinks. He prepared the same drinks for his children not so long ago. His sons. His daughters. His beloved Cat. The apple cider should be theirs to enjoy around a bonfire right outside Winterfell's walls. It should be them roasting snacks in the warm night air of summer, taking it all in before the temperatures dropped. 

It _would_ have been them had he not been gullible enough to-

"Gods forgive me," he lamented, squeezing his eyes shut to barricade the tears. Had he, too, replaced his loved ones with the boys Arya adopted into their pack? Had he chosen a new, happier path in life than the one their enemies forced upon him? Had he forgotten the suffering of his family, his people, for the fleeting pleasure of ignorance?

"I hadn't meant to forget, I won't," Ed croaked. He reached for Cat's hand on his shoulder to reassure her as much, but his fingers met nothing but air. The world around him darkened as the sharp pain of loss cut deep once more. He allowed the cut to shred open the wound and remind him of that fateful night. 

What peace could the dead have until the swift swing of justice came down upon their murderers' heads? 

Eddard Stark sword to remember. He swore to bring winter to the doors of his enemies and avenge the innocent. Nothing could stand in the way, not even the chance of a new life. 

Resolved, he inhaled and held his breath until the burn of his lungs forced the air out through his nose. There would be no cookies or curtains. There would be no roots or pack. They would not make this their home. 

By the end of the summer, both Starks would disappear from the carnival for good. 

* * *

Ed emerged from the trailer with five glass bottles of cream soda hanging between his fingers. The clinking got the group's attention, every one of them confused by the mugs' replacement. His daughter set her pencil and sketchpad flat against her lap and held out a hand to help take some of the bottles. She must have read something in his face that concerned her. 

"What happened to the cider?" Arya handed off three of the bottles to Lommy, given his close proximity. He passed on the other two to Gendry and Hot Pie on the other side of the fire in return. 

The vision of dumping the mugs' contents into the trash one by one played on rerun in Ed's mind. Each one symbolic of a member of the Stark family not present tonight. He named them all as he poured the drinks away, swearing to never forget or replace them again. 

_Catelyn._

_Robb._

_Sansa._

_Bran._

_Rickon._

"Ruined the lot of them," he said with a soft smile. "The batch must have expired, or I left the heat on high for too long." The explanation was simple enough, and he could see his daughter trying to fit the pieces together. Ed was unsure if she truly believed him or if she chose to let it go. Nevertheless, the subject dropped, and they continued to recount the stories from today's shifts. He sat beside his daughter as she concentrated on the sketch at hand. It was quite realistic, something she hadn't tried too often in the past due to a lack of self-confidence. Her abilities after this last school year seemed to have progressed with the art teacher she had. 

The older man did not pay too much attention to the image until he caught Arya staring intently beyond the fire. He followed her gaze until the only thing he saw was Gendry in deep conversation with Hot Pie. The boy glanced up and shared a look with her just before he offered a closed-lip smile. Ed's brow raised, and he glanced back at Arya's smitten expression. Her cheeks colored, yet she did not break eye contact. 

Robert and Lyanna would similarly stare at each other when they were all younger. His best friend described the event as if everyone else disappeared from their line of sight. Nothing was more important than the other and how they felt. Times were simpler then, safer. Happier. 

And then they weren't. 

Ed's smile faded altogether as his eyes caught the exquisite detail of Arya's picture. It was clear Gendry was the sole subject of the image against a shadowed background. Despite the fire and the other boys near him, their details lacked the sharp contrasts. The world really did fade away when a Stark girl and a Baratheon boy shared the same space. 

Things did not end well for Robert and Lyanna, nor did they fare well with Sansa and Joffrey's dalliance. Though, to be fair, Robert's step-son was no true Baratheon. Still, no luck or love favored the families when they romantically mingled. The old wolf thought to put a stop before anything happened, but then remembered his plan. They had until the end of the month, two weeks at most, together. From the looks of things, both teenagers appeared to be in denial about their feelings. If he kept them busy, neither would have time to explore anything more substantial. 

House Baratheon and House Stark would not join as more than a political partnership. 

* * *

"Olenna, it's me."

Ed snuck into town tonight to finalize plans with Beric, but it was late, and he'd spent too much time already. His daughter was a sound sleeper most night; however, something had triggered another migraine this week, and nightmares plagued the young girl. He meant to pay his bill at the diner and leave, but then checked his watch. There was time for one more call, a check-in with an unforeseen ally. He walked towards the restrooms, where a payphone and stool greeted him at the end of the hallway. After depositing a fistful of Change, he dialed the familiar number, and Oleena Tyrell picked up after the third ring. 

"Ned?" The Queen of Thorns responded without the fog of sleep in her voice. "Seven," she exclaimed more like a curse than hope. The Tyrell matriarch was not the religious type by any means nor the one for drama. Something felt off about her tone. "Wherever you are, you need to leave. Now." 

Ed's stomach sank. He knew the answer to his next question but asked it anyway. "What happened?" 

"They've found you." 

The Stark didn't respond and sank to the stool, barely, as his knees gave out from the shock. She must have taken his silence as consent to continue, an edge of urgency laced her words. Olenna brought the phone closer to her lips and whispered into the receiver. 

"Joffrey was positively preening tonight at dinner despite-...well, I take it you've seen the papers. He told us that a private investigator picked up your trail after our guest of _honor_ ," the venom dripped from the use of the last word. "A pungent bald cunt who appeared more rat than man..." His hearing faded out for a moment as his sight blurred. Ed rested his forehead against the wall. "Came to collect the reward money...a grudge...with information...carnival..."

In the back of his mind, Ed sensed his wolf stir from its slumber, a low growl rumbled between clenched fangs. A string of curses followed as the image of a particular young man sharped. He meant to do right by Robert's son and eliminate a threat last year. Instead, he created one for himself and his daughter. It was his every nightmare come true; his every fear realized. 

_Polliver._

Polliver sold them out and now sat at his enemy's table as an _honored guest_. 

"There's more," Olenna cut through the alarm bells. "They know about the girl, Ned." Paralyzed by what he heard, the wolf bowed his head, harsh ragged breaths forcing their way in and out. He tried to concentrate on Tyrell's warnings. "Said you're going to pay, that you deserved what you got." Ed only half-heard, mind scrambling to find a way out of this, an escape. "Are you still-"

"Do they have any pictures of Arya?" he asked, interrupting, a thought nudged its way to the forefront as the bells drowned everything else out. 

"No, not that I'm aware. As far as the general public knows, she died with the rest." There was something in Olenna's tone that made his heart stop. Eddard Stark was public enemy number one, and he had wondered why the media had not published anything about his surviving daughter over the years. 

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Ghastly _beasts_ , all of them," he heard a hiss under her breath. His brows rose. From what he remembered of the matriarch, she was nothing but class with a hint of vinegar. Oleena did not succumb like the rest of them when it came to foul language, yet he could tell she was holding back worse. "You heard about the Lannisters negotiating with the Boltons, no doubt. They plan to hand over the north, Winterfell, to them."

Westeros had come a long way from the majority of their founding traditions and laws; however, there was a certain way things were done when it came to the old Houses. The north was loyal but cruel to those they deemed unworthy. The Boltons were not favored highly among the other families. When this all began, some of those families revolted against the Lannisters and paid dearly. Although, the lions yet to hold any claim over those lands. Even if they bought a house to take a Stark's place in Winterfell, the Boltons were one of the last families the Lannisters should have considered. 

"If they get their hands on your daughter, Ned..."

Oleena must have considered his thought process, surprising him when she seemed to read his mind. There was only one other way the Boltons could take Winterfell, which was through inheritance by marriage. Ed hung up the phone abruptly, his world crumbling around him. If arrested and executed, who would protect his daughter? All he could imagine at this point were her cries for help and the horrors she'd be living under a Bolton and Lannister banner.

They had to run. 

Ed dropped his head into his hands, curled into a ball atop the stool. They were looking for him, and aside from a different color hair and clean shave, he had changed little since King's Landing. Although, no, no, he couldn't think like that. Ed shook his head to rid the thought entirely despite its constant return. They were looking for a father and daughter together. Because of him, they would recognize Arya, who had transformed almost anew over the years. Apart, though, if he left her, Arya would be safer if he went on without her. 

His thoughts flipped back and forth between his brain and heart. He couldn't leave her. How could he live without his baby, even for a few weeks? On the other hand, if their enemies got a hold of her...Ed had to make the decision that would be in her best interest, not his. 

He reached into his pocket for another handful of coins. Beric answered on the first ring. 

"It's me," Ed interrupted his friend with haste. "Change of plans. They found us."

Almost immediately, Beric became alert. "I'll leave now." 

"No," the wolf choked out and paused, heart drumming wildly against his chest. Still in denial about what he had to say, what he planned to do. "Just Arya. I have to put some distance between us to lure them away from her. This will be the only time I talk to you until it's over." 

He thought Beric might protest or argue against the new plan, doubting it. "Alright, we'll do it your way." He definitely did not like the new plan but kept it to himself. "I'll keep your daughter safe, I swear on R'hllor. I'll die before I let anything happen to her." 

* * *

_"Wait," a shadowed figure stood in the doorway of her bedroom. "Spare the girl; we'll take her with us." She recognized the voice but didn't understand why he was doing this to them. The pressure around her neck loosened, and she was able to take several large gulps of air._

_"Idiots killed the redhead." He stepped further into the room; a flayed hand gripped her chin. "Meet your bride," he said to the boy who had his hand around her throat. "She will be our key to-"_

Something startled Arry awake—a sound, perhaps? Disoriented, the brunette gazed around the dark bedroom and called out for her father. The chirp of crickets answered. The sound must have come from the road behind the lot, or maybe a dream already forgotten. She laid back against the pillows and pulled the sheets up to her chin, an uneasy feeling settling over her. It begged the girl to remain still and quiet, hidden. This wasn't the first time she woke with her heart pounding and throat sore. 

The teenager calmed herself enough to roll onto her side, then once more on her back. She risked a glance to the window above her head, left open to bring in a nonexistent breeze. Summer nights brought them no relief in the Riverlands; the humidity alone made Arry wish they rush north. Fat chance, she snorted. Father refused to go as far as The Twins. What was the north like, she wondered? 

The nearly starless sky still wore the deep black of midnight. From outside, the crickets were all she heard. It was late, so late that even the rowdiest of roustabouts had gone to bed. Arry closed her eyes, determined to relax. Though, even as she did, her head filled with other thoughts that plagued her lately: father's jumpiness and melancholic mood, for one. He went from one extreme to the next, his behavior unpredictable. Ed Snow loved his routines and traditions. Other than the secrets he kept, Arry could always predict his following action. This latest episode went on for too long. There was definitely something going on with him. 

Growling, Arry sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. She retrieved the sket table from the floor and flipped through the pages, stopping at the drawing of the pack she'd done a week ago. Attached at the top by a paperclip was the newest photo they'd taken since she got back. People weren't the easiest to draw, and she'd wanted to practice more than with her animated animals. 

Hot Pie leaned over the campfire with marshmallows on a stick in the image, laughing about something one of them said. Lommy stared up at the camera from his own notebook, appearing as if he were asking her a question. Lastly, Gendry sat on the ground beside them, staring out at the horizon. At nothing. Yet, the seriousness of his expression suggested he saw something important. 

She touched the drawing lightly, careful not to smudge the pencil. Her fingers traced along the line of his strong jaw, then across his cheekbone. He liked her art and thought she was talented. When she confessed to her dream of being an artist in the future, he didn't laugh. Gendry said someday, her belief in herself might be all she had to hang on to. Arry's brows drew together, recalling his expression. He looked so determined and so alone despite all of them around him. Swallowing hard, she glanced back at the drawing and tilted her head. 

What was he looking at?

Like her father, Gendry had secrets, too. 

An image of a direwolf flashed in her mind's eyes, followed by the echos of screaming. A splash of red. A key, a key to the gates of a castle. 

A pang from the side of her head warned the brunette a migraine was brewing. The pain turned into shocks and then chills that raced down the length of her spine. Arry felt queasy, the urge to scream and hide internally at war. Suddenly, the trailer was too quiet, the night too black. She moved her gaze around the room, squinting when her sight fizzed like the t.v. when it lost a signal. Something had caused her to feel afraid; she'd woken up from fear. The shadows toyed with her imagination, the corners darker, fuller as if they hid someone. Or something. Something cold and evil, watching her. Why did it stare at her like that?

With a squeak of terror, Arry threw aside the sketchbook, scrambled out of bed, and out of the room. Her father had taken the foldout that night. He would let her curly up with him; he would protect her from the dark things. 

But her father wasn't there. 

"Dad," she whispered, staring at the empty couch. Louder, "Dad!" Her voice resounded in the dark trailer. Arry thought back about when she first woke. The sound, it was the sound of their front door snapping shut. The sound of her father leaving. All of those times, they picked up in the middle of the night and moved on flooded her thoughts. All of the things they left behind each time—furniture, toys, food—no matter how full the refrigerator or pantry, no matter that she hadn't said goodbye to fellow classmates. Maybe this time, her father decided to leave without her; perhaps this time he decided it would be his daughter he left behind. 

She couldn't breathe. 

He was gone. 

Arry fought the rise of hysteria by wrapping her arms around her middle, sinking to the ground. It would be so easy to crawl into a ball, to lay there and let the fear and grief bury her. What would she do now? What could she do? _Think_ , her mind's voice hissed, _t_ _hink you, stupid little girl._

She thought back on all the times before, then jerked to her knees. Clothes. Gods, clothes. She really was a moron sometimes. Her father always packed their favorite clothes. Heart in her throat, Arry raced back to the bedroom. She yanked open the narrow wardrobe and built-in chests. Nothing was missing—nothing except her father. 

Where was he? Why did he leave at this time of night?

The brunette sank on the edge of the couch, deep in thought, trying to work out the problem. Paper cracked as she did. Frowning, she stood and dug under the rumpled bedding until she located a section of the newspaper. Arry flipped on the light and noticed that the front page of the _King's Landing Inquirer_ , dated several weeks back. A memory tugged, and she recalled him buying many newspapers at the laundromat. Her father took them with him when they left. After that, he began to act weird. Jumpy and distracted. Short-tempered. Sickly. His manic episodes were drawn out longer than usual. 

Scanning the headlines of the front page: _Tywin Lannister Sets Foreign Policy; Fire Kills Family of Three in Storm's End; Bolton's Negotiate For Winterfell; Mob Associate Set...To...Testify._

She reread the last headline, legs shaking, then glanced down at the article accompanying it. The story detailed the grand jury's investigation into allegations made against Tyrion Lannister, Tywin's youngest son. Supposedly, the son was connected to the most notorious crime family against the prime minister, House Stark. A witness had come forward, an ex, to provide accounts of treason. Arry was right; her father was on the run. She just never imagined him in league with the Stark family or a traitor to the government. Or, were they being hunted by the mob as well? Maybe what she heard hadn't been the sound of her father leaving, but the sound of him being taken away. 

Terrified of the rabbit hole she'd jumped down, the teenager got to her feet and ran to the bedroom. A pair of denim cutoffs and a t-shirt were plucked from the pile by the bed and shoved on. Gendry, he would know what to do; he always knew what to do. If he didn't, then he'd keep her calm until she could work it out for herself. On her way out the door, Arry snatched the newspaper page from the couch, folded it, and stuffed it into the back pocket.

"Gendry," she tapped the back window of the boys' trailer where his bunk should be. "Gendry, wake up. It's me." From inside, she heard a rustle of bedclothes and a man. She waited a couple of minutes, then tried again. "Gendry, wake up. Please, wake."

A moment later, his face appeared at the half-open window. Hair tousled and shirtless, Arry about forgot why she was at his place. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and yawned. Her cheeks burned as her gaze continued to slide back to his chest until he spoke. "What are you doing out this late?"

"I need your help," the brunette jerked her gaze elsewhere. Usually, she hated to ask for help. "I don't know what to do."

"What are you talking about?" He poked his head out and looked around. "Does your dad know you're ou-"

"He's gone!" Arry slapped a hand over her mouth, the hysteria in her voice returning once she was no longer distracted. He stuck a hand out and moved some pieces of hair out of the way. She wasn't the type to overly react, for the most part. "I woke up. I don't know why, except I thought I heard a sound. But it was really quiet, and I had this feeling...and...and..and I'm scared." Her teeth chattered, though it wasn't because of the temperature. Arry stopped talking long enough to hug herself. "I went to curl up with him, and he was...his bed was...I'm scared, and I don't know what to do."

"Oh, geez, don't cry." Neither of them cared when she cried. The last she got like this, it was her surprise birthday party. Gendry must have sensed what was coming and needed to act fast. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at her. She thought she heard someone else's voice. "Hold on, be right out. Just stay there, okay? I'll be right there."

Eventually, he emerged, followed by Hot Pie and Lommy trailing behind him. She must have woken them too with her shriek and felt like total shit. The boys wiped at their eyes and stumbled out. Gendry put an arm around her and led them away from the rest of the trailers, so no one else woke up. When they stopped by a tree, he dropped his arm only for the guys to fill in the warmth with hands on her shoulders or back for comfort. Despite the complaints earlier about the heat, Arry trembled, chilled to the bone. She welcomed the way their bodies formed a shield to the night's breeze. 

Meanwhile, he moved around to the front, rubbing her exposed arms. "You're getting all upset about nothing,' Gendry took the lead with a sense of logic. "Ed probably went for a walk." 

"In the middle of the night?" 

"Here you are, and it's the middle of the night," he countered with a shrug. "I bet he couldn't sleep and decided the night air would do some good. A stroll around the grounds." 

She shook her head, "but he's never done that before! I know he hasn't!"

"How can you be so sure?" Lommy yawned, using the crook of his other arm to mask it. "Might have slept through every other time."

Arry caught her bottom lips between her teeth. She sounded crazy to them. She sounded crazy to herself, but that was beside the point. "At first, I thought he'd left for good, but all his clothes are still here. I checked. I...I think he was kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?" Hot Pie and Lommy echoed in surprise, their hands stilled on her. 

A smile tugged at Gendry's lips. His hands slid down to hers, where he held them. "Don't you think that's just a little far-fetched?"

Tears welled up in her eyes once again. They didn't believe her. Arry leaned forward, dug the folded page from her pocket, and handed it to the black-haired boy. "Look." 

Gendry unfolded the newspaper and scanned the page, shaking his head. "What exactly am I supposed to look at?" He recognized quite a few names from his past life, people he'd rather not ever see again in this lifetime. The other two boys leaned over and read from an angle. 

"This," she pointed from over the top of the page. "About the mob."

He read it with an arched brow. "I mean, the Lannisters are a shady ass family," he said rather knowingly. "You think this has something to do with Ed?"

"I found it on the sofa bed where he was supposed to sleep tonight. He must have been reading it now...now he's gone." The familiar prickle of panic formed in the pit of her stomach. It made her want to vomit. That's when the stabbing pain behind her eyes returned in full. Arry ripped her hands from Gendry's and pressed them against them to her sockets. 

"Your dad didn't run away, and the mob hasn't kidnapped him." Her best friend was more confident in his statement this time. "Ed went for a walk or to meet a friend; he's got plenty of those." 

"He wouldn't do that," she argued, pressing hard onto her eyes. "Besides, you don't understand. I think he's-I think that maybe we're in some sort of trouble."

"What trouble?" Hot Pie began to run her back again in circular motions. Arry concentrated on the movement than the rising bile or the pain. 

"I don't know. He won't tell me. We're always moving around. We pick up in the middle of the night sometimes and just go." The pain spread to her temples. "I'm supposed to start school soon. He's not even registered me anywhere or made to plans leave here. Don't you think that's weird?" 

They were staring amongst each other; she could tell by how quiet they got. The boys must have noticed how stranger her father acted since they came back to the carnival. 

"What we think doesn't matter," Gendry retook the lead. "Ask your dad when he gets back. I'm sure there's an explanation."

"I did!" Her voice rose, the pain spiking that odd spot on the side of her head. She shouldn't have yelled; that made it worse. "He says we're nomadic adventurers."

Gendry made a sound of amusement. "Sounds about right. More right than the mob being after you."

"It's not funny!" Arry stiffened, pushing back against the oncoming headache. "He won't tell me where I was born or my mother's name. Says she's dead, but that's weird, too. If she's dead, why won't he tell me about her? Where's the rest of our family?"

"I don't know, Arry," he touched her forearm with his knuckles. "He must have his reasons."

An image of long red hair and the low hum of a song invaded her senses, and the pain intensified. She heard laughter and those gods' awful Castamere tune. A baby's scream and dogs howling. Why were there dogs in the room? 

"Gen, she don't look good," Hot Pie wrapped an arm around her waist to fully support her. 

The amusement disappeared from the older teenager's voice. Arry felt him peel her hands away from her head, then used a finger to tilt her chin up. She barely peeked through the slits, noticing him studying her face. His thumb gently caressed her cheek, confused when he saw no tears. He must have realized she hadn't been hiding her face. "One of your headaches?" 

Arry drew in a sharp breath, her queasy stomach flip-flopping. "It'll pass. I just need to calm down."

"Yeah, right." Gendry motioned for Lommy to step aside. He replaced Hot Pie's arm around her waist, then bent to cup an arm behind her knees. The next thing she knew, she was in the air, against the expanse of his chest. "Come on, we'll get you back home. You need some aspirin or something."


	9. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A storm comes to the Riverlands in more than one way. Ed puts his faith in Gendry to carry out his final plan for the safety of his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I played **["Breathe Me"](https://youtu.be/eIvvuSfB9Z0)** covered by Jonathan Roy on repeat for this chapter. If you get a chance, please listen. It's such a beautiful version.

**Riverlands - Summer 1990**

Gendry stared down at the bottle of pills in his hand; a looming sense of deja vu threatened to expose some of his darkest memories. His mom had similar-looking bottles on her nightstand not long before she died. He hadn't felt right, giving Arry something this strong, but she argued it was what Ed gave her. Sure enough, the name on the label on the bottle matched. Seeing her name alongside the prescription made his blood run cold. 

His suspicion of her condition made it to the list of questions he prepared for the manager once he returned. Instead of replacing the medication on the bathroom shelf, the teenager pocketed the bottle. Gendry turned to check on the sleeping girl when he collided with Hot Pie in the process of entering the bedroom. 

"What the fuck are you doing?" 

"She's scared. Probably help if she wasn't alone, yeah?" 

The intention was pure in nature; however, the thought of someone lying next to Arry on a bed made his stomach turn. Gendry put his arm out to block the larger boy, noticing at the last minute that Lommy was already inside. He hissed and gestured for the blond to get out. Ed would birth cows if he came home to see his daughter in bed with the boys. No matter how innocent the gesture, it wouldn't look good for anyone. 

Lommy met them at the threshold of the bedroom door, barely coming up to Gendry's outstretched arm. He rested his chin on the older boy's forearm, not a care in the world. "She's our friend," the blond chimed in. 

"Not the point," Gendry gritted and fisted both boys' shirts. He shoved them away from the bedroom. "What do you think Ed will do if he finds us in his teenage daughter's bed?" He glanced behind him when Arry stirred but otherwise did not wake. "I'll wait here. You two head back to our place." 

"We're not leaving her alone," Lommy crossed his arms over his chest. "You saw her; she's scared shitless. Where is Ed?" 

"Yeah, she wouldn't leave us if the roles were reversed," Hot Pie added. 

Gendry sighed, easing the door closed behind him. "Just...stay out of her bed." He motioned for the pullout on the other end of the trailer, where Ed should have been sleeping. They shouldn't all be exhausted come morning, he thought. "I'll take the first shift. Try to get some sleep." 

The black-haired boy turned out the lights aside from the one above the booth. He took the seat that faced the door and sat with the pill bottle and wrinkled newspaper page in front of him. As much as he respected his boss, pieces of the past kept cropping up. They needed to have a long-overdue conversation. 

_Fire Kills Family of Three in Storm's End_

The bold letters of the article stared back at him. His eyes caught the title earlier, but he'd been too afraid to consider it until now. With no one around to witness his reaction, the teenager scooped the paper up with both hands. It wasn't a big story, barely worthy of the first page. In fact, their deaths likely went unnoticed compared to the political coverage. Gendry didn't need to read the names, nor did his gaze need to examine the professional family portrait beside the article. He knew by the title who was dead, and, yet, his glassy eyes landed on an older version of Shireen. 

_"How much do you know about how Robert and Renly died?"_

Beric's voice echoed back at him, causing Gendry to crumble the sheet with tight fists. Like some gods-forsaken prophet, they'd warned him the Lannisters would continue to go after the Baratheons. One-by-one toppled over like a set of dominos, his house fell. 

_"Lord Baratheon."_

_"I'm no lord."_

But, he was now, wasn't he? The sole heir to the Stormlands, the only one left alive. What would happen if he never claimed his role, never claimed the Baratheon name again?

_"They're coming for us all. We're safer uniting forces."_

_"Then you're as stupid as that eyepatch, old man. You're talking about going to war with the most powerful family in Westeros. We won't win."_

_"We can if we stick together and stick to a plan."_

_"You've got the wrong guy. Talk to my uncle."_

If Beric had gone to Stannis with this plan to unite against the Lannisters, he had not survived the year. They were leaving no stone unturned, no loose ends. He remembered the bad blood between his uncle before he ran away, paired with the image of Shireen surrounded by flames. Gendry choked, biting down on his knuckles to mask the sound of his grief. Brave, clever, little Shireen, snuffed out before she truly got to experience the world for herself. He bit down harder until the taste of metal trickled against the tip of his tongue. 

A whimper from the bedroom had Gendry on his feet before he had time to question his actions. He poked his head in the door and watched as his best friend twisted below the sheets. She was no doubt having a nightmare, a similar one that had woken her to find Ed gone. With his cousin's death fresh on Gendry's mind, he felt compelled to sit beside Arry. Silly, sweet Arry. She liked to play tough, the invincible one, but that wasn't the way she looked at the moment. He gently stroked her head, soothing whatever dark visions plagued her. She looked soft and vulnerable. And lost, he thought, in a way he had never known her to be. He touched her cheek, surprised by the rush of tenderness he felt for her. 

The teenager never had a brother or sister, though he had wanted one once upon a time. Someone to share things, someone to belong to when his mother or father didn't have the time. Someone to belong to him. That had been a long time ago. So long, he almost no memory of it anymore. Gendy had been lonely, back when he had needed people to make him happy and feel safe. He told himself he didn't need any of that now. His brain, however, betrayed him with images of his friends and their time together. No, he didn't need them. Not really. But it felt damn good to have them around. 

Gendry slipped away once Arry rested peacefully and crossed to the door. There, he stopped and looked back at her. What she told him earlier about them picking up and moving in the middle of the night sounded weird. The mob, though? No way. That was too much like the movies. No, Ed was probably trying to stay a step or two ahead of a bill collector. He refused to tell Ary anything about her mother because of a bad falling out. Ugly, but true. Too ugly, he thought, too true to tell a little girl who loved her father. 

After one last glance, he went to the front of the trailer to wait. Another hour ticked past, and still no Ed. The older man had a girlfriend or something. Went to fuck her brains out. Even as the thoughts filtered through his head, he acknowledged that it didn't ring true. Maybe he didn't know Ed well enough. For all he knew, the older man could be a raving nympho. His nose scrunched up, and he shook the thought out of his head. Gendry sat down at the booth, deep in his own head. He had seen the way Ed looked at Arry. The other man loved his daughter; nothing meant more to him than her. Certainly, not some small-town, back-lot fuck. Gendry scoffed at how naive that sounded. Still, he couldn't picture his boss leaving her alone to go do that. 

So, what had he left her alone to _go do_?

The question barely registered when he heard someone at the door. Tense, the teenager stood, using his large form as a block between the intruder and his sleeping friends. A second later, Ed stepped into the kitchen, saw him, and stopped dead in his tracks. 

"Hello, Ed."

His manager looked past him, towards the back of the trailer, where Arry slept. "What are you doing here?" His expression alarmed. 

Gendry folded his arms onto his chest, acting the part of the authoritative figure. "The question is, why _weren't_ you here?"

"I went out for a walk. I couldn't sleep."

Ironic how that was the excuse he offered to Arry tonight. Face-to-face with Ed, he couldn't bring himself to believe that same line of bullshit. "It's the middle of the night!" Gendry's voice rose, then glanced at the sleeping forms of his friends. "Seven Hells," he hissed. "She came to get me— _us_ , out of her mind with worry."

Ed paled, his hand went to his throat, and Gendry saw that it trembled. "I couldn't sleep," he repeated. "Is she alright?" 

"I think so. She took two of these," the teenager stepped back to pick up the bottle on the table. "But only after we promised to stay. She was afraid." The memories from earlier tonight reminded him of his anger. Fuming, he accepted the random bravado that allowed him to lecture his boss. 

"Thank you, I must see her." Ed tried to step around him, but Gendry didn't budge. Both men were roughly the same height, but due to Snow's weight loss in the last month, he'd seemed smaller. They stared each other down until a muffled cry came from the bedroom. As much as he wanted to punish and interrogate the manager, he wouldn't keep Arry from her dad. He shifted to the side and gave Ed the tiniest space to pass through. From the bedroom, he heard the sound of tears and whispered promises. 

* * *

Hot Pie and Lommy's heads poked out from the pullout once Ed was out of sight. They must have woke when they heard him raise his voice. Gendry felt a smidge of guilt but then buried it. He motioned his head for them to leave. The fury in his expression must have warned them not to argue because they rolled out of bed without question. They scurried quietly out the door and left the black-haired boy alone with his thoughts again. Arry was right; her dad's change in behavior and his actions tonight made him think Ed was afraid of something... _of someone_. 

"I need a drink," his manager said as he closed the bedroom door behind him. "You want a beer?" 

"Sure." 

As Snow opened the fridge, a shaft of light speared through the dark kitchen, illuminating his expression. Something was wrong. Gendry's stomach clenched. He handed the teenager a bottle, then slipped into the booth without another word. Both sat across from each other as they often did when their ghosts visited. Ed took a large swallow, his gaze on a place somewhere over Gendry's right shoulder. It reminded him vividly of his mother that he winced. 

He took a drink of his own, deciding there was no use in beating around the bush. The bitter aftertaste of the beverage made his nose wrinkle in disgust. It wasn't the cheapest he'd had, but it wasn't the best either. "What the fuck's going on?" 

"Pardon me?" Ed startled out of his thoughts, confused by the tone all of a sudden. 

"You don't add up. Neither does Arry." Gendry couldn't put his finger on what stood out to him. Something just felt off about the duo, and it was all piling up at once. A proverbial veil lifted from the teenager's eyes. "Why are you traveling with this two-bit outfit?"

"Why are you?" Ed countered, appearing level-headed. Though, Gendry knew it was all an act now. His mentor was calm on the surface, but an equally disastrous storm raged underneath.

"It was a way out," his nose flared. He hated chasing circles. Why couldn't people say what they meant? "It's not permanent." 

"It's not permanent for us, either." 

"Bullshit," he slapped the newspaper page on the table and gazed speculatively at Ed for a long moment. Neither of them was willing to back down. The corner of Ed's eye twitched, then he broke contact to stare down at the crumpled page. Gendry noticed that his gaze passed over the mob's story. It paused on the Bolton negotiation, then finally on the Storm's End article at the bottom. When the older man looked up, his expression more somber, borderline pitiful. "Why are you running?" 

"I'm sorry about your family," he said and touched the black and white photo with the tips of his fingers. "We've had quite an exciting night, haven't we? Why don't we talk tomorrow? I'd appreciate it if you left."

The teenager snarled and took a more decadent drink. He did not want sympathy; he wanted a fight. He wanted answers, and Ed Snow was deflecting. Gendry sat the bottle down, hard, and leaned forward. "I think the fuck not. We'll talk now."

"This is none of your business."

"It became my business tonight when you weren't here." He poked at the newspaper. "It became my business when you shoved me in a car with my father's bannerman. It became my business when everyone I've ever known ended up dead."

"I made a mistake," Ed admitted, ignoring the rest of the teenager's rant. "It won't happen again." When he tried to stand from the booth, Gendry grabbed his arm and forced him to stay put. Respected boss or not, Gendry wasn't going anywhere. If there was trouble, he needed to know. 

Snow studied him, though tired as he looked. It wasn't the first time the teenager thought his boss would say something, and then didn't. Clearly, the older man had things on his mind, and his mouth closed tightly. Deflated, Ed's shoulders sagged, and he dropped back down into the seat. 

"I love my daughter," his boss began. "More than anything in the world. I'd move heaven and earth for her, I'd face the most unspeakable evil to save her. That's all you need to know. It's better that way." 

There was something in the man's eyes, and in the way he spoke, that told him he had already faced the unspeakable for his daughter. That didn't change what happened tonight. Gendry stared him square in the eye. "I'm sure you do love her, but she thought you either ran away or taken away. You need to face that and deal with it. Stop sweeping whatever under the rug." 

Gendry might have been projecting his past issues with Robert onto Ed. These were things he wished a younger version of himself would've said when he had the chance. Maybe, if Gendry had said something, Robert wouldn't have given up so quickly and started a new family. "You know, Ed, Arry doesn't buy what you've told her about her mother. She doesn't buy that you pick up and move in the middle of the night because you enjoy it. Frankly, I don't buy it, either." 

Ed studied him for a while, overcoming some thought processes. Eventually, he leaned forward. "Your family didn't deserve their fate." Gendry started to protest, but the older man held up a hand. He had a point; the teenager needed to be patient. "Your father wasn't always the way you remember. He and your uncles, they were good men...in their own way. They all got caught up in a dangerous game, one, I'm sure, you are aware of by now." Ed rested a hand flat on the mob's article, then began to whisper. "The lions aren't only hunting stags, but wolves as well."

The Baratheon's baby blues widened. He felt the blood drain from his face as his eyes slid down to where Ed's hand lay. The Stark name came into view. And one by one, everything clicked into place. He sucked in a breath, his train of thought displayed clear as day on his face. Ed merely nodded, then placed a single finger over his lips. The next thing that came out of the manager's mouth felt more like a threat than an actual warning for himself. "No one is safe," his grey eyes slid over Gendry's shoulder to the back bedroom. The teenager did not need to follow it. 

_Arry._

"I had to make a difficult decision for her sake." Ed's gaze returned to the boy in front of him. "I need your help." 

* * *

In the last days of Yoren Crow's Carnival—the last anyone would ever see Ed Snow or the pack of misfits—a dark cloud clung to the space above their heads. With it, a promise of dread on the horizon. Even Melisandre, ever the intuitive seer, kept to herself—quiet and observant—waiting for the moment lightning struck. Gendry wondered if Arry suspected anything at that time. Did she sense these were her father's last memories or was she thoroughly distracted by his undivided attention? He pandered to her every desire, every fantasy. From the obscene amount of junk food to the participation of learning new talents from the performers, the father-daughter duo did it all. 

In response to the onslaught of questions about his motivations, Ed modestly replied that it was an early birthday reward. Elated, Arry took it as an amendment for the scare the other night. She soaked their time with laughter and affection. It was the happiest Gendry had ever seen his best friend, which made him feel sick with the knowledge of what was to come. Ignorance truly was bliss. He aided Ed by not uttering a word of what he learned that night. Hot Pie and Lommy didn't know the extent of what happened and for a good reason. Too many people who knew the truth put them all at risk. Gendry also didn't have the confidence in his friends to act normal around Arry if they knew the truth. He didn't lie when he told Ed that his daughter was smarter than people gave credit. 

"Bull!" 

The bubbly voice of his best friend came from behind him. He closed his eyes and willed his composure to hide whatever thoughts colored his face. A moment later, he set the hammer down and turned around with a smile. "Hey, wolf girl." 

She skipped over to him in a new outfit and a haircut. Ed stood with several shopping bags in his grasp several feet away. Gendry's forced concentration on Arry was all he could muster. She spun giddily with a new pair of black boots and a knitted blouse. He couldn't decide what made her grey eyes sparkle more, the brilliant blue of the blouse or her mood. Nevertheless, they made his heartbeat stutter and his stomach clench simultaneously. She ran both hands through her shoulder-length hair to ruffle it up. 

"Dad decided it was time to stop borrowing from the costume trailer," she laughed. 

Gendry's stomach flipped, and the sick feeling returned. Still, she continued as if nothing else mattered. 

"I got some new art supplies, too! Can you believe it?" Arry opened up the flap of her leather bag. "Oh, and a new camera! We can take more pictures, isn't that great? I'm thinking of putting together a new scrapbook. What do you think?" 

"Anything to keep you from being a pain in the arse," he teased with strain. If Arry noticed, she didn't call him out on it. Instead, she beamed up at him, then skipped back to her dad's side. "We're going to get waffles for sup tonight. Do you want to come?" 

His smile faltered as his gaze slid to Ed for the first time that day. They shared the same secret look. Gendry cleared his throat and brought the smile back to his lips, shaking his head. "Wish I could, but Yoren said there's a storm coming. We're locking everything down."

"Do you need us to stay?" The brunette frowned. 

"No, you two go ahead. We can handle things from here. Bring me back some before the bonfire tonight?" 

Arry stared at him, her eyes following every line on his face. He could have sworn she read him then and there. She nodded, then tugged on Ed's arm. They spoke to each other, though he didn't hear what they said. He didn't care, to be honest. In fact, he couldn't wait for this week to be over. Ed put him in a compromising position, and the teenager swore he'd never do it again. 

Fuck the game of thrones bullshit. The secrets, the lies, and the underhanded moves. It was all a bunch of bullshit that did more damage than good. Gendry wanted no part in it. If he did, he would have stuck around when Robert made a push for politics. He would have stayed in Storm's End with Stannis. 

That wasn't him. 

* * *

Later that night, Ed's final night with them, the pack shared a gluttonous second meal around the campfire. Hot Pie treated them with wolf-shaped cookies at the manager's request. Privy to the older man's stories, they listened closely as he told them of the old gods he worshiped, legends about the Children of the Forest, and the great war with the Others. At times, the wind blew through their small camp rather dramatically, enforcing the tall tales' eeriness. From beside him, Gendry caught Arry's lips moving, whispering her favorite parts. He found it adorable how she hung on her father's every word eagerly before watching how the other rest of them reacted to the stories. 

Towards the end, they snuggled underneath blankets around a low fire. The temperature dropped quite a lot within the hour, and the wind had picked up. It wasn't long until they heard the rumble of thunder in the distance, signaling them to head for cover. His boss took one last cookie from the plate and leaned forward in his chair, towering over them as any good storyteller would. Unconsciously, the teenagers straightened and watched as he stared at the misshapen wolf. 

Ed took a pinch of powdered sugar leftover on the plate's edge, then sprinkled some over the cookie. "When the snow falls, and the white wind blows," a breeze whistled among the many trees around them, "the lone wolf dies, but the pack survives." 

Hot Pie's stared intently at the swaying branches, unable to take his attention away at the darkness around them. Lommy swallowed loudly, pretending not to be bothered by how the wind seemed to carry whispered words to them. Arry gathered up the blanket and held it close to her chest, eyeing the single wolf Ed held out. Gendry slipped a hand from underneath his blanket and rested it on the small of her back. Her body shivered, but she didn't move away from his touch. 

"Protect each other," her father said as he made eye contact with each teenager one-by-one. Gendry was the last, thinking it was a dreadful and sullen way to teach one final lesson. Gods, the northern people were strange. "Look after one another."

The older man placed the cookie back on the plate, inhaling at the next gust of wind. Another wave of thunder rolled not too far from the town. Ed wiped the powdered sugar off his hands. "Off to bed with you." His eyes lingered on Gendry a second longer than usual with barely a hint of a nod. "I'll take care of the fire." 

* * *

The storm picked up an hour before midnight. Gendry slipped into his jean jacket quietly, not wanting to wake the others. The wind buffeted the camper, rocking it. Several particularly strong gusts seemed to actually lift it off the ground. Yoren had enough sense to order a lockdown earlier; otherwise, they might have been swept up and away. He snuck out, almost glad to have the roar of the storm muting any sound he may have made. Gendry held an arm above his head, struggling to see ahead of him as he made his way over to Ed and Arry's trailer. The driving winds and splotches of rain blinded him, frequently disorienting him. If it weren't for the front light, he wasn't sure he would have made it to the trailer. 

Ed took one look at him after entering and retrieved a pair of sweat pants and a shirt as the teenager dried off. Neither fit, reminding him of a time that felt like forever ago. Gendry remembered the way his clothes clung and rose when he first arrived at the carnival. He had nothing until he earned it here. After he dressed, the teenager hung the towel and his clothes above the heater. That was when he noticed Ed's suitcase near the door. Suddenly, all the air rushed out of his lung, suffocating him.

The teenager wished more than anything to block out the desperation in the man's bleak eyes when he looked up. Gendry's throat closed over his words, choking them off. Over the last several days, he'd told Ed this wasn't a good idea. Anything could go wrong, and if it did, there'd be no way to let them know until it was too late. This felt wrong, somewhere, deep down in the pit of his gut. Ed was making a mistake. 

"Beric comes for Arry tomorrow. We'll rendezvous later when I know it's safe. It'll probably only be a few weeks." 

"You're kidding, right?" His Baratheon blues glanced towards the curtain-drawn window above the kitchen sink. Lightning flashed, illuminating the night for a blink of a moment, startling the teenager from his thoughts. Gendry ran a hand down his face. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I don't have any other choice. They'll recognize Arry if I am near."

"What if Beric doesn't show up?" He rested both hands on his hips. "What's the back-up plan?" This was happening one way or another. There was no going back after tonight. 

"Yoren can be trusted." Ed leaned against the counter beside the booth with his arms over his chest. "He'll keep her hidden until she can be moved out of Westeros."

Gendry broke eye contact, glancing behind the older man to the closed bedroom door. "Have you told her?" Ed's lack of response was deafening. "You can't do this. You can't leave without telling her. A note or something. I won't let you."

"It has to be this way." His manager swallowed thickly, his voice quaking as he looked down at his feet. "If I wake her, I won't leave without her. I won't be able to, and she won't let me." The last part had Ed's bottom lip and chin quivering. "I have to do it this, Gendry. I have to...for Arry." 

Even as Ed's eyes flooded with tears, the teenager shook his head. He saw how close his mentor was to falling apart. One nudge and he wouldn't be able to go. One nudge and he would take Arry with him. Gendry couldn't give him that nudge. The other man's desperation was real; his terror was real. Ed was afraid for his daughter. Helpless, the black-haired boy watched as his boss scribbled a name and phone number on a piece of stationary near the phone. 

"It's Beric's number. He'll always know where I am." The northern handed him the piece of paper and moved around Gendry's larger form. As he made it to the front door, it hit the teenager that this was goodbye. The startling revelation shook him right to his core.

"I'm never going to see you again, am I?" Gendry turned to see Ed sit the suitcase down again. 

He didn't know who moved first, but in the end, they both had their arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. The Baratheon squeezed his eyes shut, hating the fact this departure hurt so much. He was never supposed to get close to this family, and yet he had. It was like losing Robert and Renly all over again. Once more, he was a little orphan boy, clinging to anyone that might keep him rooted. 

"You're a good man," his mentor whispered into his ear. "I know it doesn't mean much, but your family would be proud of you. _I'm proud of you_." Hot tears gathered at the corners of Gendry's eyes, and he released a shuddered breath. He held Ed tighter, unwilling to let someone else he loved go without a fight, without knowing how much he cared. After a moment, he patted the teenager on the back, then pulled away. "Take good care of my baby. Tell her how much I love her." Ed held Gendry's head up between the palm of his hands. "Don't forget. Tell her I love her more than anything in this world. And take care of yourself."

"I promise." 

The rain swallowed the older man whole as soon as he stepped outside. Gendry stood at the front door, feeling as if there was something more he needed to say. Anything to convince Ed to stay. 

But it was too late. 

_Ed was gone._

* * *

Gendry didn't sleep for the rest of the night. 

He made himself comfortable on the floor beside her bed while the storm raged on. Arry slept soundly despite the chaos around them, much like some princess in one of those stupid fairy tales. Though now that he knew who she truly was, Gendry supposed she was akin to a princess. A northern wolf princess, much like her ancestors. The corners of his lips lifted at the imagery and how she'd kick or smack him for the comparison. They'd banter back and forth with a light wrestling match that would determine the victor. 

How was he expected to break the news come morning? How would he handle her heartbreak? 

The mirth in his expression disappeared altogether when the pinch in his chest grew too painful to ignore. He touched the spot over his heart and massaged the area as if that would rid him of the grief. How many losses could the Baratheon take before he permanently cracked? 

Robert drank away the pain for the better part of his life. The invasive similarities painted an ugly future for the teenager. 

His head bobbed forward, jerking back when he heard the brunette stir from above. He smacked his head against the doorframe, then hissed as he rubbed the tender spot at the back. Arry jolted with a roll to her side, followed by the softest, sleepiest smile. It wasn't the first time he noticed how his best friend guarded the intensity of her full emotions when fully awake. In moments like this, she didn't care about the world's events or people's opinions. 

What was he going to do without her?

"What are you doing here?" Arry looked up at the window, to the gray stormy day behind, then at him. "Did I oversleep?" 

Gendry stared, set on memorizing the way her face lit up and transformed when she smiled. The way her grey eyes sparkled with hope against the mishappened strands of brown hair. He drilled the image of her at this exact moment because it would be the last time he saw it. 

He told her the truth right then; simply, clearly, and with as little emotion as possible. Gendry hoped the lack of emotion softened the blow, but it hadn't. Confusion. Disbelief. Horror. Her face paled a shade lighter after each new feeling; their reflection dulled her sparkle. Everything he loved about his best friend withered and died in a matter of seconds as the news registered. 

"You're lying!" Arry jumped out of bed, eyes wild. "Why would you say that? My dad wouldn't leave me! He wouldn't!" 

"It's only for a little-" 

"No!" The brunette scrambled over his legs and out of the bedroom. "Dad!" she shouted into the void. "Dad!" She ran to the other side of the trailer. "Dad!" Gendry heard the front door open, then slam shut. Panicked footsteps brought her back to the bedroom. He began to stand when she pushed him roughly back down. "This isn't funny! Not even-" he winced from the knobs of the dresser, digging into the soft spots of his back. "He wouldn't leave me."

Arry swung the doors of the wardrobe open and looked over her shoulder, angry tears threatening him. "You're such an asshole! Why would you say something like that after the other night?" She yanked and pulled at the wardrobe items before grabbing onto the edges of the open doors. With a cry, the brunette went from one chest to the next. She ripped them all open carelessly, riffling through what was left. 

Eventually, her fingers stilled. The bedroom torn apart. Arry glanced over at him in the same position where she threw him. And with the smallest voice, he'd ever heard, "He left me?" 

The crack in his heart expanded and left Gendry breathless. Why in all seven hells did Ed think he was capable of handling this type of situation? The Baratheon was a million miles out of his depth. When he reached for her, the girl jumped away from his touch. In return, it made her bump into the sharp edges of the wardrobe. The pain didn't seem to affect her; nothing could compare to the feeling of abandonment. 

"Your father was afraid," he dropped his hand to his side. "He said-" 

Arry clutched the furniture behind her as she began to sink to the floor. Her tears muted any effort to explain Ed's actions. Awkwardly, he crawled to his best friend with no idea how to comfort her. "It's not forever." 

Her head snapped, and without warning, her hand struck his face. Shame colored her cheeks just before anger retook control. Gendry knew anger. When your insides rage with all the emotional turmoil, anger is the easiest to express. He knew from firsthand experience it was simpler to hate the world and all the people in it than to accept the pain. What he wouldn't give to take it away from his best friend. 

When she shoved him, he willingly landed on his ass, gracelessly. The soft thumps of her small fists on his chest were droplets on a tin roof, the light rain before the storm. Gendry allowed, only because he didn't know any other way to help her. How many walls had he damaged after being shipped off to Storm's End? How many people had he hurt to subside the grief? He raised his fists towards Renly once. His uncle had allowed a couple of shots before putting a stop to it. The memory came to him clear as day, something he did not like putting too much thought into it. No one enjoys remembering the moments they hurt their loved ones. 

"You're not alone," the Baratheon said aloud as he remembered hearing them. He took hold of both wrists mid-swing. Her protests ended long enough to resolutely express going after her father. Arry tried to stand, but he never let her get too far. Gendry dragged her down to the floor where he sat and then against his chest. She fought him, a renewed fury. He wrapped his arms around her small, thrashing form. "You're not alone," he repeated against her flailing fists and feet. He tightened his grip, folding himself over her, immobilizing Arry's actions so she wouldn't hurt herself. 

Despite the physical abuse and screaming, the teenager continued to hold onto her. A wild little thing, so strong and yet still so fragile. Gendry tried his best to keep his best friend's broken pieces from falling to the floor around them. Eventually, the brunette's hysteria became wails of despair. He rocked her silently until her sobs turned to whimpers, then he pressed his lips to the space near her ear. Words he never knew he could say, some from a memory half-forgotten, buried too deeply in the cracks of his heart. Gendry moved the wet tangles plastered to her face, then found the spot on the side of her head where his lips murmured the same unfamiliar things. 

Finally, after a considerable amount of time, Arry pulled away from him. Her watery grey eyes landed on his face, where she gently touched with the pads of her fingers. He assumed it was the mark she left earlier, but when he went to place his hand over hers, something hot and damp surprised him. She wiped his cheeks clean as he had done her, then rested her head in the crook of his neck. 

What a mess they were. Nothing more than a couple of angry, sad kids who'd been abandoned by their fathers. He let out a heavy breath as his arms readjusted around Arry. The void in his heart narrowed ever so slightly with her here. 

"I was right, wasn't I?" Her voice croaked, hoarse from its overuse. "About the bad people?" 

Gendry shared all that he knew about the situation, about Ed's fears, too. His absolute love for his daughter and the danger he would put her in if he stayed. He shared about the night Ed disappeared the first time, their conversation, and the plans to follow. Arry's eyes widened, fearful of packing up her life at the carnival for the last time. Alone. 

"Not alone," he told her and moved some hair behind her ears. "I won't leave; I'll be with you until it's time, okay? You're not alone."


	10. Runaways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gendry takes responsibility for the group when they're forced to run.  
> Ed's worst fears come true, and a new ally approaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I left the chapter on a good note since the next chapter will be...angsty. I'll be updating Hello back-to-back, which will delay my update here. Thank you all for your patience. Comments are appreciated! <3

**Riverlands - Summer 1990**

An uneasy tension balled into the pit of Gendry's gut. He hung up the phone's receiver after getting the answering machine for the tenth time. Beric never showed up yesterday, nor were there any signs he would today. Doubtful of what to do next, the Baratheon teenager dialed the number Ed gave him. Afraid to leave a message, Gendry thought it best to keep trying to phone until someone picked up. He turned to see Arry at the kitchenette's table, peeking through the closed blinds. The storm left the troupe with damages despite all the preparations. The teenage pair should be out there scrambling to make repairs with everyone else. Instead, they stayed put, afraid people would mention Ed's disappearance. 

No one was the wiser until a stranger appeared at the carnival on the third day. Suspicious of outsiders—a trait unappreciated until today—Yoren's carnies kept tight-lipped. The boys weaved Arry in and out of places around the grounds, sure to keep her out of sight. Unaware of the whole truth, one thing was clear to everyone: Arry was in trouble and needed protection. And carnies protected their own. 

Petyr Baelish, a private investigator who worked for some of the wealthiest families in Westeros, stood in the middle of the trailer. Gendry had heard the name but never met the guy in person. From the looks of him—the sharp beady eyes, especially—told the boy he was untrustworthy. 

"So," the investigator began, "you haven't seen this man or his daughter since the other night?" 

"No, sir," Gendry slipped his hands into his pockets. "As I said, Ed asked me to stay here and watch the place." 

To be fair, Yoren was under no obligation to allow the intrusion. The owner of the carnival could have sent Baelish away with the threat of his baseball bat. Yet, the Baratheon respected why Yoren obediently stepped aside. A man like an investigator had a reputation and ties to power. None of which 

"Do you expect them back?" 

"Why wouldn't I?" 

He could see the gears turn in the investigator's head by the gleam in his eyes. Others had met Baelish with dead-end responses. Their interview was the opportunity the older man needed to gain information about the father-daughter duo. Gendry carefully laid out the breadcrumbs for his trap. He'd get a bat to the head for this one, but it would be worth the punishment. 

"They didn't tell you where they were traveling?" Baelish cautiously ventured into the space between Yoren and Gendry. He lifted up the newspaper on the table. "Even though you are such good friends? I find that rather funny." He picked up the used mug on the counter and sniffed at the lingering contents. "Mind if I take a look around?" 

Yoren bristled, "I mind. The man and his daughter are gone. Just like the kid said."

"And that's not unusual?" 

"Not in this business. Now, this here is private property, and the kid needs to get to work." 

"Sure," the investigator sat the mug down and forced a tight smile. "If you see either of them, I'd appreciate a call. A thousand dragons in it for you." He ignored the owner and handed Gendry a business card. 

"A thousand?" The teenager widened his eyes as if awed by the amount. "Wow, what'd they do? Rob a bank or something?" 

Baelish's haughty laugh grated Gendry's nerves. "Nothing like that. A lawyer hired me to find them about an inheritance—free money. These two are...very rich." His oversimplification and vocabulary, paired with his polite tone, was an insult. Highborns and their lackeys with a superior complex often used the combination to mock those of lower status. "They'll thank you for contacting me." 

The bald-faced lie made Gendry want to punch the guy's lights out. How many of Ed's so-called allies had turned on him for money? Enough, the teenager thought, for the northerner to trust someone from the Stormlands. It made him all the more curious about why Beric never showed. Had the Baratheon bannerman succumb to greed as well, or had something more nefarious happened? 

"If I see either of 'em, you'll be the first to know," he slipped the card in his back pocket. From behind Baelish, Yoren caught his eye, growing suspicious of his new attitude. "I sure could use a thousand dragons. Don't nearly make that amount when we hit the cities, even with the side gig." 

Yoren's brows shot straight up, confused. The investigator, on the other hand, seemed half-interested. Baelish folded his hands together in front of him. Perhaps, interest went as far as it did to form a connection. No doubt this guy collected informants like street kids collected loose copper. "Is that so?" 

"Yeah, usually when well-tailored men with such..." the teenager trailed off as he forced a blush and took the investigator's hand. "Soft hands," he thumbed the knuckles, "they don't pay as much for my company." Gendry brushed his lips against the tips of the guy's fingers. He offered Baelish a kittenish smile, fluttering his long eyelashes. "And I sure could use a thousand dragons." 

Beyond them, Yoren palmed his face than to continue watching. Mildly alarmed by the teenager's provocative invitation, Baelish gradually removed himself from Gendry's hold. He awkwardly played off the offensive gesture with another polite laugh, then made his exit rather quickly. When the trailer's door closed, the black-haired teenager pulled out a bottle of whiskey hidden under the sink. He filled the used mug on the counter and gargled the amber contents.

Awestruck by the performance, the carnival owner watched closely as Gendry disinfected himself. Eventually, a heavy, deep chuckle made its way out of Yoren. He tapped the counter with the end of his baseball bat, and the Baratheon pulled a small glass from the cabinet. Now that he'd gone through with it, he couldn't help to wonder if his actions would come to bite him in the ass later. Petyr Baelish didn't seem like the type of guy who handled humiliation well. At least his boss got a good laugh out of it. 

"No wonder they call those guys private dicks," Yoren said as he took his shot. "He sure was one." They sat in relative silence, processing the afternoon's events. "Repairs to the generators are 'bout done. I figure we'll head out first light." The man hesitated as he set the glass down. "What are we gonna do about the kid if no one comes for her?"

"She can't stay here. No way we'll get lucky again." 

"I'll let you two keep the trailer until we make it to the next town, then I'll need it for somebody else."

Gendry's heart sank. "Yes, sir. We'll have everything packed up by then." 

When Yoren left, he pulled the business card out to study it. Fancy lettering and a silver bird design shimmered against the light. The dick dressed pretty clean, too, with shiny leather shoes and a watch that looked like real gold. He had an office in King's Landing and The Vale from what he gathered on the card. Whoever hired him paid good money. Petyr Baelish cost someone big coin, and he had a pretty good idea who. 

The Baratheon frowned. He had a choice to make about Arry, and he had to do it fast. Before morning, if Beric hadn't shown by then, the choice was clear. Nevertheless, either option scared him shitless. He thought things over while he worked the rest of the day. Lommy and Hot Pie stayed in hiding with Arry to keep her company. 

Gendry knew for a fact he could not turn his best friend over to the authorities, nor could he trust anyone else to look after her. Ed made him promise, which left only one choice, really. They had to run. 

That night, Gendry woke to Yoren's calloused hand across his mouth. Startled, the teenager nodded when the owner gestured for him to keep quiet. Only when he fully woke did he notice the sound of hounds and screaming from outside the trailer. Arry squeezed his hand from her position beside him, frightened by the noise of an attack. Yoren pressed a set of keys into the teenager's hand and guided them to the back of the trailer. The four of them snuck out with barely any belongings and followed their boss to his old van. 

"Come with us," Arry tried to persuade him. Yoren shook his head and shoved her into the back of the vehicle. He slammed the door shut and met with Gendry one last time. 

"I'll buy you time. Go now."

In the rearview mirror, the light of a fire spread across what remained of the carnival.

* * *

The pack's initial hours on the road were harrowing with no destination in mind and few options. They said little to each other as the empty backroads stretched endlessly in front of them. The first time they stopped to refuel the van and take a restroom break, Arry became hysterical. None of the boys were allowed into the women's restroom area, which left her isolated and alone. She quieted after the boys repeatedly promised they wouldn't leave her behind. Reality hit them and hit them hard when they found her outside the men's restroom, huddled near the door and whimpering. 

In the safety and shelter of the camper, none of them grasped the consequences of running away. They were children, Gendry thought, as they sat in the gas station parking lot. Everyone looked to him for instructions because they thought he was older. He was barely older than any of them, and yet, he was the one responsible now for the entire group. His decision to take Arry and run seemed more clear-cut, less of a challenge. He hadn't counted on Lommy and Hot Pie tagging along. The money he saved would go fast if he had two extra mouths to feed. 

They found an abandoned train station an hour later and huddled together in the back of the van. Autumn's early chill, paired with the late-night darkness, left no one brave. Although exhausted, Gendry couldn't sleep. His mind raced from one worry to the next, one frightening what-if to another. Resigned about their next move, Gendry released a pent-up breath. They had to settle someplace, get jobs. He didn't want to wait until they were dead broke to do it. 

Arry couldn't sleep, either. She did not stir or speak, but she clung stiffly to his side, frozen with fear. He shifted, stretching his cramped legs. The adjustment made her whimper, and she reached out to take hold of his sleeve. For a moment, he felt smothered and trapped. He was angry—at Ed, himself, the world. Gendry ran away from home to make a future for himself and ended up saddled with a group of kids on the run. He breathed deeply, shaking off the feeling. No matter what he felt, it wasn't Arry's fault, and he couldn't take it out on her. 

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered against the top of her head, pushing the feeling of suffocation down to reassure her. Between Ed leaving and the carnival attack, she probably had some issues to work through. It wasn't her fault, he reminded himself. "Just trying to get comfortable." 

After a moment, she nodded and loosened her grip. Gendry wrapped an arm around Arry once he adjusted comfortably. She pressed herself into the crook of his neck and inhaled. The gesture seemed to calm her nerves for whatever reason. "What are we going to do," the brunette tilted her head towards him. "Where are we going to go?" 

"I don't know, sweetie," he said honestly. The use of an endearment lost on him in his exhausted state. "We're going to have to play it by ear." 

Arry hesitated, then nestled against his chest with a shiver, seemingly accepting his answer. Gendry pressed a kiss to the top of her head and held her body firmly in place. There was something about their mixed body warmth and synchronized breathing that eventually allowed them to drift off together. With a blank future ahead filled with uncertainty, the one thing they did have was each other.   


* * *

Forty-eight hours after he left the carnival, Ed reached out to Beric. The call went straight to the machine. He moved onto the next town and tried again at the gas station payphone. No answer. The storm must have delayed their trip, he assumed. By the third day, Ed sat in a diner at the Vale's border. He attempted to contact Beric's friends, then Yoren. In a panic, he stayed longer than he should have in the open. Every time the phone rang in the diner, he jolted out of his seat. 

The televised news confirmed his worst fears as he stared at the screen along with the other patrons. A reporter stood at a safe distance as emergency crews handled a fire in the background, a traveling carnival at Riverrun. Supposedly, the damage was due to lightning from the storm. It might have been believable had he not seen Roose Bolton and Petyr Baelish off to the side, speaking to the authorities. 

Dread washed over him as if the cold hand of Death had reached within him and took hold of his heart. Photos of his former employees, his friends, flashed on the screen during the report. Victims of the fire. The camera followed officials as they loaded black body bags into the back of trucks. Oh gods, he almost wailed aloud. Yoren was the last face he saw, and the world around him faded away. Ed took hold of the table and closed his eyes, controlling his breathing. 

Arry was not among the dead. Gendry was not among the dead. He had to hope that meant they got away. Old Gods be merciful, the wolf silently prayed. Beric must have got to them in time. They were playing it safe. 

When the diner phone rang, one of the waitresses called out his name. Ed startled, then stood to take the call. Thoros, recognized by the slosh of his words, made the Essos accent prominent. Relieved to have someone familiar on the phone, Ed dismissed the drunken tone. "Thank the gods. Is Beric there? Have you heard anything?" 

Thoros cleared his throat, thick from a hangover. The northerner prayed for patience as his gaze found the ceiling. "It's an emergency. Is he there?"

"Beric's dead." 

Ed paused, unsure if he heard correctly. "Repeat that again." 

"A car accident a few nights ago. A drunk driver hit his car head-on. He's dead." 

His chest tightened. He brought a hand to his head and fought through an intense panic attack. Everything was too much. Too bright. Too loud. He couldn't breathe. "Was...was he alone? Did he have anyone in the car with him?" 

"Yes," Thoros responded, and it sounded like the drunk was taking a drink. "Yes, he was alone. Died instantly." 

Ed felt sick, yet relieved his friend did not suffer. It was his fault, after all, that Beric was out there in the storm. He pressed his forehead against the diner wall—the tile cool against his flushed skin. 

"You hear about Yoren?" Ed nodded, though he didn't know why. It wasn't like Thoroas could see him. 

"It wasn't an accident, was it? What they said about the storm?" The old wolf waited for Thoros to reply. "They were searching for us at the carnival."

"I've got some guys on it. Gonna see who we can get out there before the Boltons and Lannisters get a hold of them."

"Do you know where my daughter is?" Ed knew he asked for a lot, especially so soon after the Brotherhood's loss. "Is she safe? Did she get out in time?" 

Thoros sighed, "I'm sorry, Ned. I don't know anything more until my guys get back. I'll let you know as soon as I do." 

The call ended on a somber note, and Ed slumped into the stool at the counter. Not long after, the bell above the entrance rang to notify someone of a newcomer. A moment later, a man sat beside Ed and ordered two drinks. He noticed the beer slide in front of him, then glanced up, pushing the bottle back. 

"No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, though," the old wolf responded and ordered a cup of coffee. 

"You're a hard man to find, Stark," the stranger said and slid the bottle back over to him. "Best drink up, my boy. We have matters to discuss."

The numbness dissipated as his body pumped with adrenaline. Ed's head snapped upward to get a good look at the newcomer. An older man, should his grey hair be any indicator. There were hints of auburn patches in his beard and a stubborn streak that refused to fade away. The leather biker jacket was worn and, initially, Ed mistook the scale patterns as worn lines. He tapped his beer bottle against Ed's with a clink. Reluctantly, the wolf picked up his bottle but did not drink from it. 

A pair of familiar blue eyes glanced his way, observing him. He knew those eyes, though pale and aged. The stranger smirked, then addressed the waitress on the other side of the counter as she approached. She listed the specials for the day, and his smirk turned into a full-blown smile. 

"Fish," he ordered from the list and gazed back at Ed. "Black."

* * *

**Harrenhal - Winter 1990**

The group fell into a regular rhythm of living after a bumpy start. They traveled as half-siblings, going from one place to another. They needed to never stay in one town or city too long for anyone to ask questions. With Gendry's age and skillset from the carnival, he found work in labor-intensive jobs. Not ideal, but it brought in the most money. Hot Pie worked in the kitchen of restaurants or bakery at local stores. While Gendry paid rent, Hot Pie managed to scrounge for meager groceries. They volunteered for double shifts and alternated weekends. Arry's public appearances were short, and she was always with one of the boys at all times. In the early days on the road, reports of the carnival's fate reached the teenagers. No one wanted to risk being caught, and Arry was one of their top priorities. 

During their latest stint in Harrenhal, they found a low-income based apartment. The landlord asked no questions as long as he got paid on time. Though nothing to brag about, their new home beat the sketchy motel rooms and the van. Lommy tailored from the basement where the laundry units were available. In exchange, the residents in their building offered goods as payment. He grinned ear-to-ear when they got a used mattress for the bedroom floor and a futon. Arry offered to babysit and clean for the single parents who also needed to work double-time. It didn't pay for much, but she felt useful. The socialization she got from the children lifted her spirits and fed the need to socialize. 

Their sleeping arrangements varied until last month. Before, Gendry and Hot Pie alternated between where they slept and with who. He didn't want to admit the truth, but Gendry felt uncomfortable when Arry slept next to Hot Pie or Lommy. It wasn't that he didn't trust his friends, but it was a thought he couldn't stomach any longer. He told himself her father entrusted Arry's safety to him, so she should stay close. In reality, the couple just seemed to sleep better side-by-side. 

By winter, they made the decision to no longer celebrate namedays individually. It was too costly, and they never knew when Hot Pie or Gendry could get the day off together. They picked the Solstice since everything closed early around the holidays. Arry and Lommy were in charge of the entertainment for the day, while Gendry and Hot Pie took care of the food. Gifts, they decided, were simple and wrapped in old newspaper. Nothing needed to be extravagant. 

As a special treat, Hot Pie convinced his boss at the bakery to take home the ruined cupcakes from the night before. Using scratch ingredients, he re-decorated the cupcakes like wolf heads. No one understood what they were until he pointed out the ears and fangs. Pack, Hot Pie said as an explanation. They were nothing like his cookies at the carnival, but they were enough. When Lommy gave him more shit about the appearance, he smacked the curly blond. "Oy! They're uh work of progress," Hot Pie argued. 

"A work _in_ progress," Lommy shot back with a punch to his friend's arm. 

They each took one cupcake from the plate and lit either a broken or used candle. After a round of off-key singing, the teenagers blew out the flame with one wish on their minds. The appearance of the cakes didn't diminish the mouth-watering taste. Gendy brought out their meal for the night, which he'd gotten from the deli. He discovered that leftovers not sold during the holiday sales were often thrown out. Excellent food, gone without a thought to the waste. It made no sense to him, and he negotiated to buy any leftovers from now on at discounted prices. 

After supper, the group headed to an ice rink. It was the most expensive part of their day, but well spent. Arry thrived in the colder temperature. Though generated from a machine, she experienced snow for the first time. Gendry took her hand and guided her onto the ice, holding her close. Snowflakes drifted downward and collected on their clothes, making the night feel magical. The four stayed until closing time, skating, playing games in the arcade, and sharing junk food. For once, they got to act like teenagers again. 

By the end, they gathered around the lone space heater at home and exchanged gifts. Gendry and Arry handed out mugs of hot cider, then took their places in the circle. They passed around three gifts each, though Arry left hers untouched. As the boys excitedly ripped through the newspaper, she secretly pulled out their old camera. It was the one item she thought to steal back at the carnival, something she forgot was in her bag until later. The brunette snapped one photo each, laughing at their confusion when they realized what she did. Arry confessed about the camera, then. "I didn't want to forget," she twisted her hands. "I forgot all about my first family...I-I don't...We're pack, family. I can't imagine my life without any of you in it. Yeah, it's a crap situation, but we're together. And I don't want to forget any of it." 

"Aww, guys, she likes us. She really likes us," Lommy placed a hand over his heart. He met with balls of newspaper thrown at him. 

Arry reached over to snatch the thick pair of socks from his pile. He always complained about his feet being cold. "Guess I can take these back if you're going to be that way," she laughed. 

The blond launched across the center of the circle, caught by Gendry's strong arms. "I think he deserves punishment. What do you think, Arry?" The larger of the boys wrapped his legs around Lommy and maneuvered him into a headlock. 

"Come off of it, Waters!" He struggled, left and right. "You always side with mommy dearest!" 

"Careful, Loms, or you'll get a spankin'," Hot Pie sounded off, removing their gifts from the circle. 

Lommy paused in his effort to escape, glancing up at Gendry with a wink. "Forgive me, daddy, I've been naughty."

"You think you deserve nameday spankins?" The Baratheon cradled the blond as they discussed this. 

"At least seventeen." 

Arry used the distraction to pounce on top of Lommy and delivered a round of tickles. "And what would Ned say about that request?"

Lommy kicked and squirmed, doing what he could to get away as her fingers danced across his mid-section. "He'd say, _'congrats! Wish I was there. Take pics!'_ " 

Gendry lost focus for a second, confused by the mention of pretty boy or how he was essential to this conversation. He scowled, feeling the mood ruined by the mere idea that they still thought of Beric's _whatever-he-was_. "Why would he care?" 

Arry and Lommy paused, looking up at him from the ground. They glanced at each other, then back to the Baratheon. "Oh, you sweet summer child," the curly blond shook his head. 

Before anyone could explain what _that_ meant, Hot Pie entered the room again with the excited declaration of "wolf pile!" He joined them on the floor, landing at the top as they pressed into the ground. 

The group groaned collectively, wiggling and rolling to relieve the weight. Lommy wormed his way out from under the pile, gasping for air. He crawled to a safe distance and complained that this was not what he had in mind. Hot Pie rolled away a minute later, laughing to himself. It wasn't until then that both Arry and Gendry realized their current position on the floor, flat against one another. Her face darkened. She chuckled awkwardly with her hands on his chest, trying to balance into a sitting position. Gendry's ears burned when he noticed how he held her by the waist. 

"I'll be back," Lommy interrupted. He grabbed the pair of keys on the kitchen counter, then walked out the door without another word. 

"Wait, where is he going?" Gendry waited until Arry stood, then took her hand to do the same. 

"To the payphone in the lobby most likely," Hot Pie took the empty mugs to the sink and began to get ready for bed. 

"To call who? At this hour?" 

With a look of bemused pity, Arry cupped the side of his face and tilted her head. "You _really_ don't know, do you?" She tsked, allowing her hand to drop to capture one of his. "Come on, let's go to bed." 

Gendry glanced towards Hot Pie for a clue and got nothing. Ultimately, he let the brunette guide him to their shared room. Later, as they lay on their respectable side of the mattress, he could practically hear the gears in her head turn. Eventually, Arry turned on her side, facing him. He sensed her eyes on him. 

"You still awake?" She asked in a tentative whisper. 

"Hmm," he responded and cracked an eye open. He stretched out his arm to lay at the top of her pillow, and she instinctively moved her head to rest it on top of his upper arm. 

Arry didn't say anything for a long time, and he thought she'd fallen asleep. Instead, she scooted closed until she aligned with his side. The gears still turning. "I just wanted to say-"

Gendry nudged his left eye open further to show he was listening despite being half-asleep. Her lips thinned, and he saw when she made up her mind about something. She offered him a sweet smile, something he noticed Arry did when she second-guessed herself. Whatever it was on her mind, she pushed it away and wished him a happy namesday. Not wanting to push, Gendry hummed and placed a kiss on her forehead. 

The last thing he remembered before he drifted was a chaste kiss to his cheek. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr **jjofalltrades** or on Instagram **jjclarku** for sneak peeks, asks, moodboards, or playlists.
> 
>  ***** I decided to take the minor background couples out of the tags to free up space for those ships in their own tags. So if you need to know, the following background ships for this fic include the following:   
> Hot Pie/Bella Rivers  
> Mya Stone/Margaery Tyrell  
> Satin Flower/Jon Snow/Ygritte


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